The Most Precious of Treasures
by SapphireShelle91
Summary: Bilbo is thought to have died during the Battle of the Five Armies, but in reality she has returned home to Shire, believing that she has been forever banished from her friends sides and that they are far better off believing that she is indeed dead. Bagginsshield with Fem!Bilbo. Full Summary inside.
1. A Welcoming Birth

**Author's Note:** Hi There.  
Thanks for deciding to read this fic, it means alot to me.  
A few things before you read on, firstly this fic is AU. Obviously because a) Bilbo is a girl in this. I've also made it that Thorin, Fili and Kili all survived the Battle of the Five Armies, maybe a little worse for wear, but they are alive. I've also changed some of the time frames and altered a few things - Tolkien has probably been rolling his grave as I've been writing this, but he should be used to this by now - about some characters. For example, Bilbo's father is still alive, due to Bilbo being a little younger in this than she/he was in the book and some other details as well, but you'll see all those as you read this fic.  
Hope you enjoy and comments are much loved. Thanks.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Hobbit, as much as I wished I did, I sadly don't. This fantastic story belongs to Mister Tolkien and Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and WingNut Films.

**Full Summary:** Bilbo is thought to have died during the Battle of the Five Armies, but in reality she has returned home to Shire, believing that she is forever banished from her friends sides and that they are far better off believing that she is indeed dead. However, her plans to remain dead to them are complicated by the most precious treasure a certain Dwarf King left her with and by a few friends who simply refuse to believe that she had truly gone from Middle-Earth.  
Bilbo believed that her journey was done, she had gone there and had come back, her story was finished, she had no idea that she had just walk headlong into another.

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**The Most Precious of Treasures**

**Chapter One**

**A Welcoming Birth**

Bilbo stared in wonder at the small, wiggling bundle in her arms.

"Beautiful," she whispers as she ran her fingers over the soft mop of black curls covering the newborn babes head.

"You are beautiful. You are safe. And you are loved." She whispered to the child as he yawned and struggled to open his eyes.

"He's a healthy lad," a deep voice informed her gently, "considering all things."

"He's perfect." She replied as she kissed the top of the babe's head.

"People will still be able to tell that he is different." The voice reminded her gently.

"I am different; at least I am now, so they should expect nothing less of my son." She replied firmly, giving the owner of the voice a hard look causing him to chuckle.

"Yes, you are," He agreed, "but then, you always were. What shall you call him?"

Bilbo hesitated as she looked back down at her child.

This question had been eating at her for months; from almost the moment she discovered she was carrying him.

"I feel like I have no right." She admitted softly.

"No right? To name your own child? He is your son, Billanna."

"But he's not just mine, is he now?"

"No, he is not. But he's father made his choice and will have to live with it. Just as your son will live with the name that you give him."

"He doesn't even know."

"Do you want him to?"

Once more Bilbo hesitated. She did and… she didn't.

She feared what he would do if he discovered the child but a part of her hoped that he would forgive her and they could then become the family that she never released until now had always she desperately wanted.

She shook her head.

"It's too late now." She sighed, "And I doubt him discovering the babe will change anything between us. He might simply snatch him away and…"

"Billanna." She tries not to cringe as he calls her by her birth name. Only one other in their old company knew it besides from him and it hurt now to hear it spoken from anyone's lips that were not his.

"Bilbo." He says as if he's read her thoughts and maybe he has for who truly knows the true extent of a Wizards power.

"Please don't tell him, Gandalf." The hobbit begged, hugging her newborn child close to her chest.

The old, wise wizard looked down at her from his great height, a height that looks to be even greater than it really is with him being cramped into her hobbit-size bedroom.

"Not my place to tell." Was all he said in reply and Bilbo felt a sense of relief fill her.

She had been worried that Gandalf might go to the King under the Mountain and inform him of her condition. A silly worry really, considering how the wizard was currently feeling towards the Dwarf King, feelings that weren't particularly friendly. And these unfriendly feelings had only grown upon the discovering that she was carrying said Dwarf King's child.

She had feared that Gandalf feelings of unfriendliness towards the Dwarf King would transfer over to her as well upon the discovering of her pregnancy, but thankfully they hadn't.

Yes, he had become even angrier with the Dwarf King for casting her aside but he never directed his anger or annoyance towards her. He had even decided to stay with her, here in the Shire, until her child was born when previously he had meant to only see her home before heading back out into the wildness of the world.

"Thank you." She mumbles before turning her attention back to her son.

"Durin's line is strong." Gandalf comments quietly as he comes to take a better look of the child.

"Do you think he'll look more like a dwarf than a hobbit?" Bilbo asks as she runs a finger over an only slightly pointed ear shell.

"I do not know. A good mixture of both, I should think, going by how he looks now." Gandalf replied.

"I don't really care," she admits, "but I just fear that if he looks more dwarf than hobbit he'll…"

"Be treated differently? My dear hobbit, your lad here would have been treated differently even if you had married that oaf of a Sackville-Baggins, simply because you yourself are a very different and unique hobbit yourself."

"Yes, but if I had married that Sackville-Baggins oaf, this child would have been born a hobbit, instead of…" She looked up at the wizard, hopeless in trying to think of what her child actually was.

"A unique dwarf/hobbit child? Yes, I know, but what I mean to say is, people would still have looked at him strangely even if he was born a healthy hobbit lad for he is the son of a mother who disappeared the day of her wedding to go off on an adventure across half of Middle-Earth."

"Not that anyone cares about that." Bilbo sighed, "They only care about how I came to be with child and tut-ter over the fact that I won't tell anyone who the father is or where he is. I'm sure the Sackville-Baggins have started all kinds of nasty rumours. They're still quite upset with me for being alive and forcing them out the house."

"And for your continual refusal to marry their oaf of a son."

"I couldn't. Not now." She whispered sadly.

"At least your father isn't too disappointed anymore."

"No," she agreed with a smile. "I suppose we should go and introduce this fine young lad to his grandfather shouldn't we?"

"If you are feeling up for it." The wizard replied, helping the hobbit lass out of her bed, catching her gently as she swayed for a moment before she caught her balance and with a smile and cuddling her little lad closer to her chest she marched from her bedroom

Bungo Baggins had taken his daughter's sudden return and obvious pregnancy fairly well for a hobbit suffering with a strong case of mind sickness.

He had welcomed his daughter back with open arms and was quite excited with the prospect of being a Grandfather, even to a child who had no father in sight and was conceived out of wedlock and while its mother was miles and miles away from home on an adventure that she refused to speak much about.

Bungo was wake when Bilbo gently knocked on his bedroom door.

"Is he here than?" the old hobbit asked eagerly, trying to pull himself upright and free of his bed covers.

"Yes Papa. Here he is." Bilbo said with a wide smile as she carefully moved into her father's room. Once she was by his bed, she gently set her child into his grandfather's waiting arms.

"Hmph," her father said after a few moments of giving the newborn child a thorough looking over, "doesn't take much after us now does he?" he ran his fingers over the babes black curls.

"He might with time. He's only just been born, Papa." Bilbo replied with a weak laugh. If her mind-ill papa could see the differences in her child than everyone else in the Shire would.

_And not just in the Shire_, a voice whispered from the back of her mind, causing her to shudder.

"He's eyes are very blue. Do you think they will remain this way?" Her papa asked as she carefully settled herself down on to the bed beside him.

"I don't know Papa."

"Hmph. He's a handsome lad. Has our nose." Bilbo laughed a true laugh at this, smiling gently as she touched her tiny son's button nose.

Her son wiggled in her father's arms, casting his brilliant blue eyes at her.

_Sapphires_, she thought dumbly as she stared back at the child, unable to break eye contact with her child.

Sapphire blue, just like… just like his father.

_No_, she shook her head, _not sapphires. His eyes are like the sky or a clear pool of water, not those pretty blue gems. He'll never see a sapphire so I can never compare he's eyes to one. He'll never know, never see… He won't, not ever. He will never…_

She fought back tears and instead forced herself to smile at her baby.

"Here you are, back to your mama you go." Her father said as he handed her back her now sleeping child. "You should get some sleep yourself my dear. You should have waited till morning to show me this little fellow, though," he took one of the tiny hands within his own; "I am pleased you showed me him tonight."

Bilbo smiled at her father as she carefully moved to her feet, her body aching noticeably now with the after-pains of childbirth. Sleep certainly did seem like a nice idea.

"Good night Papa. Sleep well."

"Same to you my dearest. Same to you and little Frodo."

"Frodo?" Bilbo question but her father had already dropped off into a sudden sleep.

"Frodo?" She whispered to her son as she gently closed her father's door.

"A fine name," Gandalf said suddenly looming over her and her child. "Your father's suggestion?"

"Yes, yes it was." She nodded before looking back down at her lad.

"Frodo?" She rolled the name over her tongue. It was a fine hobbit name, but… "Is that your name?" The baby squirmed in her arms.

"Is that a yes?" Bilbo asked looking up at Gandalf, hoping he would help her in this matter. She had no idea how Dwarves went about naming their children. It was one of the few topics that wasn't revealed to her fully by one of her dwarf companions. Either because it had never come up or simply because she wasn't privy to the information, she wasn't sure and it wasn't like she could ask any of them now.

Whatever the reason, she wasn't at all sure how to proceed with naming her son, not to mention the sense of guilt she felt twisting in her gut.

"I think so." Gandalf said and Bilbo felt herself relax, despite herself.

"Frodo it is then." She said with a smile.

She had always been fond of the name – she was surprised her father had remembered actually as she had only mention once or twice when she was a much younger and a less world-weary hobbit lass that if she were ever to marry and have children, she would name her first-born son Frodo – and while she was sure a certain Dwarf would have a word or two – more like two dozen – to say about the name, she was content with it. For now at least.

Though a part of her felt as if she was missing something, something important about her child but she can't for the life of her think what it is.

"I will watch him while you sleep." The wizard said and after a moment's hesitation, Bilbo handed her child over to him. She wasn't sure why the wizard wanted to watch but from the look on his face she saw that there was nothing to worry about, he seemed to be only curious.

"Thank you. You'll come and get me if he needs me?"

"Of course."

"Oh, um. Well, good night then" She hesitated a moment longer before taking herself off to her bedroom, pleasantly surprised to find that her bed had be laid with new sheets and that room had been cleansed of the smell of blood and sweat.

She all but fell onto her bed, falling immediately into a deep sleep, her dreams filled with images of her child being born in a very different place, across mountain ranges and vast forest and a lake as large as a small sea, in a room deep within a great, lone mountain. In this place she is still loved by the one she loves most in the world… well, second most in the world now, their son has pushed his way to the forefront of her heart.

She dreams of his proud smile as he holds their child in his arms, showing him off to the rest of their company. He would have loved their child, for all his differences, she was sure of it. They all would have, all of them. But none of them would ever know of him, not now. And he would never know them.

She lets out a little sob in her sleep before tossing to her other side, her dreams melting into sweet nothingness.

In the front room of the hobbit hole, standing in the light of a thin new moon was Gandalf, holding the small babe in his arms, bathed in the light of the moon, a weather-worn finger running over the a strange birth mark on the babe's tiny shoulder.

"So, you have finally returned," the old wizard said softly, "Durin the Deathless. An interesting life you've allowed yourself to be born into."

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**Author's Note:** So that was Chapter One. I hope you enjoyed :)  
Thorin and Co. will be appearing in the next two chapters along with lots of exposition for this story, along with flashbacks.  
Thanks for reading and reviews are much loved.


	2. A Lonesome Heart

**Author's Note:** Wow. I mean, seriously WOW. I've never had such a strong response towards one of my fanfics before. 7 reviews, 10 favs and 28 follows all in matter of hours. In fact, my first couple of reviews came appeared in only a matter of minutes after I posted this fic's first chapter. So again WOW. And thank you, thank you so much.  
So this chapter is from Bofur's POV. I love Bofur, I absolutely adore him. If I didn't love my fem!Bilbo/Thorin so much, I'd probably pair my Billanna with Bofur because I trully do love him, lol.  
Anyway, please enjoy.

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**Chapter Two**

**A Lonesome Heart**

Bofur walked through the great halls of Erebor with a heavy heart. It was Durin's day, a day of celebration; the farewelling of an old year and the welcoming of a new one.

He should be enjoying himself and yet, he is not. He's heart is too heavy to muster any feelings of true joy. Which is selfish of him, he knows for there are many things he should be joyful over, many things he should be thankful for.

He is home once more; he has his brother back by his side and a good group of loyal friends all around him. He has all the reasons in the world to be happy, but…

He lets his mind wander back to a year prior, to a very different Durin's day when a small, golden brown haired lass had jumped up and down excitedly for she had just figured out the puzzle behind the mystery of the secret door.

She had been so pleased and proud of herself as she ordered them all to their feet, bossing around their King to hurry and to get his key out for there wasn't much time.

Bofur smiled slightly at the memory.

It was one of the few last good ones he had of her with the rest of the company before everything turned to madness and chaos.

She had done so much for them, saved them countless times and yet with one mistake – alright, so granted it was a rather large and rather grievous mistake – they had cast her aside, cast her out.

The hurt and betrayal in her dark, earthy brown eyes with the final look she sends them before she disappears into the camp of the men and elves, still haunts him. Haunts all of them he is sure for that was the last time that any of them saw her. The battle had come shortly afterwards and they all barely made it out alive.

They thought that they had been at their lowest then, with their King gravely injured, along with his two heirs. Little had they known that worst was to come.

It was a day or so after the battle had finished and those who were not so grievously injured has started to sort through the dead on the battlefield, searching for possible survivors and lost friends.

Their group had remained behind by Thorin, Fili and Kili's side as they were thirteen in number and had no one to search for. Or so they thought.

It was late evening when a dirty and blood-stained Gandalf came striding into their tent, demanding to know where exactly his burglar was.

At first, Bofur is ashamed to admit how uncooperative they were and all he can say in their defence was that they were tired. So very, very tired. From their long journey to the mountain, from the betrayal within their own company, from the battle and from their injuries, old and new.

Many of them were in a great deal of pain and what did they care for the little hobbit who had betrayed them when they were dealing with such great pain.

Gandalf hadn't liked this of course. He called them a great many names in languages they knew and many they didn't.

He was so angry and so very worried that they finally offered what little help they could. They hadn't seen her since she had left them, they informed him as one voice before one of them, he thinks Ori, asks the wizard why he asked, hadn't he sent her back to Laketown or what remained of it before the battle had begun?

The Wizard had mournfully shaken his grey head and informed them that shortly after the battle had begun their burglar had gotten the notion into her head that she must do something to help, anything to help and had run into the battle with her little blade glowing as blue as starlight, paying no heed to Gandalf's calls for her to return to his side.

It was then that members of the company started to remember odd occurrences happening during the battle, rocks seemly being thrown out of nowhere striking down goblins and wargs alike when they came to close to any of them. The high pitch whistles cutting through the battle, warning them of Azog's coming. She had been quite proud of her whistle and had used the skill a number of times during their journey. So many times in fact that it seems silly now that they hadn't recognised the sound of it when they heard it, even if was in the midst of a battle for their lives, their home and their gold.

The last time, Gandalf informs them once their guts were filled with guilt and fear for the smallest member of their company, that anyone had heard what might have been her was just before the Eagles had arrived, crying something along the lines of, 'The Eagles! The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!' before the cry was cut short.

None who had apparently heard her, could remembered exactly where in the battlefield they had heard her voice and now, a day and half later, the old wizard was very worried and had been hoping that "she may have found her way back to you lot".

But of course, she obviously hadn't and so now the wizard was very, _very_ worried. So worried he was in fact that he quite forgot to scold them further for casting her out and starting this whole mess.

Thorin, who had been silent up until this point, croaked, "You should have sent her back."

Gandalf had glared back at him, snapping, "You should never have cast her out, never should have started this whole business in the first place."

Thorin as injured as he was, still managed to glare with all his kingly wrath as he snarled, "You should never have brought her along to begin with."

The old wizard simply stared at him for a moment before nodding his head slowly in agreement.

"You are right, I shouldn't have. Her skills and intelligence were clearly wasted on you all and I should have allowed you to meet your fates with the trolls and goblins, the spiders and elves and lastly the dragon or have you already forgotten that it was she who saved you all from untimely deaths. And it is also because of she that you are not being siege at this very moment by the men and elves who still stand. Because she showed humbleness and strength, qualities that were admired by both men and elves alike, unlike you Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror. She was trying to save you once again and instead of seeing that, lost you were in your hunger for gold that it blinded you to her love and desire to protect and save you once again and so that in the end you only saw her betrayal. You are right Thorin son of Thrain, I should never have brought her along on this quest and if she is dead, be it on your head, for it will be her life that you will be living."

And with that the wizard had disappeared and they weren't to see him again, for he steered clear of all of them until the day he left in a great hurry on a white steed with Beorn, in his huge bear form, by his side, galloping back towards the ruins of Laketown.

They had not seen him since.

Or her for that matter.

They never did find her. Her blue coat that she had been give when her red one was torn and battered beyond repair, was found and given to them once Gandalf had left.

It was barely recognisable as hers, the once dark blue fabric now stained almost black with blood, the thick cloth ripped and torn. None of them wished to think much of the fate of its owner, the state of the coat speaking all too clearly of how the hobbit had spent her final moments.

It was another couple of days after the coat had been found and Gandalf had left that any of them remembered about the lass's magic ring.

"She went into the battle invisible." He had excitedly whispered one night around a camp fire, careful to keep his voice down so as to not wake the resting king, "she might have snuck away before it ended."

"Leaving her coat behind to be bloodied and torn?" Dwalin replied with a snort, thrusting a stick sharply into the flames.

"She never liked it," Ori had pipped up, "she always said it was too long and heavy for her. It probably got in her way during the battle and she took it off."

They actually got quite excited when they thought of this, well most of them at least.

"So where is she then?" Gloin had growled, "Where is she? Buggered off, instead of coming back and facing her…"

"Face her what?" he had asked as he felt his temper rise, a rare thing for him but he had discovered that he had quite temper over those few days and it had been about to boil over, "her judgement? Her trial? Why? Why would she come back for that? She has already been cast out. Why would she return? Even if she wanted to, how would she know she wouldn't be facing as you are suggesting we should do to her, hmmm?"

"You were always too soft on her laddie," Gloin rumbled, but his dark eyes were filled with some akin to shame.

"And you were always too hard on her! She tried her best, maybe not right from the start but she did try. As Gandalf said, we would have been dead several times over if it wasn't for her! One mistake, just one and we all turn our backs on her, threw her out even though she was only doing what she thought was best for the company. And now she's _gone_…" possibly forever.

He had blinked back angry, grief filled tears and had stormed out of the tent, ignoring the cries for him to come back.

It was stupid; he knew that, to be still trying to search for her after so many days after the battle.

Even if she had survived the battle there was a good chance that she had been hurt during it and had been lying somewhere, unseen because of her magic ring, being missed constantly and too weak to cry out for help and without help, infection from her injuries would have spread within her tiny body.

It wouldn't have taken long, she was so small after all, maybe a day or two for the infection to make its away all around her system and then…

He had shoved his fists into his face as he kneels down upon the battlefield and allows himself to sob. Even if she had survived the battle, she was probably long dead from her wounds.

_That is why Gandalf left in such a hurry_, he had thought dully, _he knew she was gone and so saw no point in remaining here any longer._

His smile seemed to have died after the Battle of the Five Armies. Many thought it was due to the ghastly injury he had received during the battle, a great wound that had cut its way across his face, taking a great chunk of his nose with it. But that hadn't been it, that hadn't been what killed his smile but he lets them all think that. It's easier that way and doesn't bring an angry and guilt-ridden - no matter what he says, anyone with half a brain can tell that the King under the Mountain is guilty with how he dealt with the situation with his burglar. The only good thing that came out of the whole affair was that the insanity that had seized him hasn't been seen since her leaving - King down upon his head.

He knows that she won't be happy with him, that she'll shake her golden brown curls and say that he is being incredibly silly and that she doesn't want him to be sad over her, for him to lose his smile because of her.

She would most likely tell him to be happy, he is home and where he belongs with his brother and cousin and all his friends, together and safe.

He knew what he would say to her in return; that yes he was home and back in the place where he belongs with his family and friends, safe and sound, but she wasn't there with them. Nor was she at her home, where she belonged and that, that was what made all the difference.

She had been taken, her life stolen from her because of thirteen stubborn dwarves, all of whom had had the inability to see sense when it was looking them all right in the face.

She was dead because of them, never to see her home, her books, her armchair or her garden again.

She had a family too, a large one at that. A family who had loved her and whom she loved dearly in return. She had a father who was probably still waiting for her return, unless Gandalf had returned to the Shire to deliver the news of her passing himself. She had cousins whom she had adored, spoken fondly of, loving them all as if they were her very own, aunts and uncles and a whole extended family as well.

She had also had her husband-to-be waiting for her, he remembered with a start. He knew that they hadn't been close – that was why she had come after them on this mad adventure on the day of her wedding – but he can't help but think how terrible it would be, waiting for your bride-to-be, not knowing where she had gone or if she was ever to return.

Bofur's depressing thoughts had led his weary body far away from the celebrations and down into the hall that had once been Smaug's bedroom as Bilbo had lightly called it – she had received several very unamused looks for that comment but she had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice.

He looked around, still feeling the same wariness and fear that had churned away in his gut the first time he walked into this hall.

It was empty now; all the treasure within it had long since been moved out of the hall and into different locations throughout the great mountain. No one minded though.

No one liked coming to this hall, let alone enter it by themselves. It still reeked of dragon no matter how many times it was cleaned and so it was abandon.

He settled himself against the doorway of the hall, took out his pipe and started to smoke. He wasn't sure how long he had sat there before his cousin finally found him, grunting and grumbling in Khuzdul, patting and tugging on his arm.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming, I'm coming. I did wonder how long it would take for me to be missed."

Bifur grunted at him, looking extremely unhappy with him but then most people were now a days.

The two cousins slowly made their way back towards the celebrations, their way being lit with more and more torches as they moved closer to Dwalven civilisation.

His feet grew heavier with each step he took, his head hanging low and it was only with Bifur steering that he didn't crashing into a wall.

They had reached the main entrance hall when Bofur felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Where have you been? And why didn't you take me with you?"

Bofur shook his head in slight amusement,

"Because laddie, you are a prince and your uncle would notice your absence at the celebration. Everyone would notice your absence from the celebration."

The young dwarf snorted, his dark brown eyes filled with anger and sadness. He wanted to be here even less than Bofur himself did, if that was possible.

The young dwarf lad had been at odds with his family, mainly he uncle for almost a year now and spent a great deal of his time by himself, exploring the mountain and surrounding lands.

He said he was doing it to better understand his people and to come up with strategies to better protect the mountain if another attack like the Battle of Five Armies were to ever occur again.

Most people swallowed these words for it was easier to just pretend that the youngest prince simply had itchy feet and couldn't settle down than it was to accept the fact that the boy wanted almost nothing to do with his uncle and was trying to stay as far away from him as he possibly could.

The only reason he was present at this celebration, Bofur suspected was because of Fili. Fili had left a little over a week ago with a small guard to track down his little brother and bring – dragged him more likely – him back to the mountain for this night.

Bofur suspected that the young prince in front of him would be gone again in the morning and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he could possibly join him on his next wandering.

He bit down hard upon his tongue to stop himself from asking.

He was home, had his brother and cousin to take care of, he couldn't just disappear into the blue with the youngest Durin prince simply because he wasn't coping with his grief. It'd be far too selfish of him to do such a thing.

But… it certainly was tempting.

"I don't care about them." The younger dwarf was muttering. "I only came back because Fili asked me to and because I knew I would be able to see the company again." For a moment his eyes burned fiercely before the fire with them burned itself out in a matter of seconds.

"Well," Bofur said, clapping the young dwarf on the shoulder, "we're glad you're back even if it is only for tonight, laddie. We've missed you something terrible, especially your brother and mother." He didn't push it and add '_and your uncle_' for he knew the dwarf prince would not respond well to that.

The Dwarf prince nodded.

"Yes, I know. I've missed you all too." Bofur wondered if the King was included in the people that Kili had missed. He was sure that he was. Kili didn't really hate his uncle; he simply didn't like him very much anymore.

The three dwarves walked into the great Feasting Hall, where numerous tables, all filled with rowdy dwarves, were set all around the hall.

The trio walked through the throng of noise, dodging the food being hurled about the room and made their way to the head table set up at the opposite end of the hall, where the rest of their company sat along with important guest, such a Dain Ironfoot who was sitting next Thorin and whom he was having deep conversation with.

Kili dragged himself over to sit with his mother and brother and the two cousins moved to sit with their old company, Bofur ignoring the questioning looks that were being sent his way, at least it was too loud for any of them to bother with any quiet interrogation of asking him where he had been for the past couple of hours.

He glanced up the table to where Kili was slouching between his brother and mother, glaring resentfully at the table while his older brother tried to coax a conversation out of him. The lad gave short, blunt answers to whatever ever his brother was saying but nothing more. Even from where he sat, Bofur could see the pain in Fili's eyes.

He wasn't the only brother pained by another brother's attitude he realised when he saw that his own was looking at him with a similar expression.

He forced himself to smile, the one smile he had left and was solely reserved for his brother and their cousin.

"What's the matter, Bombur?" He tried to tease, "Full already?"

His brother smiled back at him, a shy and possibly a little nervous but a smile nonetheless.

Bofur shook his head, angry with himself.

He had to do better than this, he had to! His brother and he had spent far too many years apart for a rift to form between them now.

He would work harder to be a better brother and cousin.

After all, it would be what she would have wanted.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sad Bofur. I didn't really like writing him sad because hello, he's Master Optimistic and Cheerfulness, he's not meant to - or allowed to be - unhappy! But for the first couple of chapters of this story, he sadly will be sad and unhappy Bofur.  
Thorin is next and then in chapter four we return to Bilbo, lil'Frodo and Gandalf.  
Thanks for reading!


	3. Heavy Heart of Stone

**Author's Note:** Hi there.  
Here is chapter three, which is from Master Oakenshield's POV. It was a slightly interesting chapter to write because as I wrote it I was torn between being absolutely furious towards Thorin for acting like such an insensitive jerk and feeling kind of bad for him.  
Damn, Richard Armitage! From the age of six I was fairly consisted with my dislike of Thorin - the dwarf frustrated me ever since I was a little girl - and then I watch the movie and I become a damn fangirl for him! Curses! I was doing so well with disliking him which was supposed to show in this chapter but it ended with me feeling sorry for the bugger!  
I swear its got everything to do with Richard Armitage portrayal of him along with how beautifully Peter, Fran and Philippa have written his character, including elements of his personality that was rather glazed over in the book.  
Anyway, enough from me. Please enjoy this chapter. But once again, I would like to thank all the amazing support that I have received for this fic. Believe me when I say I was not expecting this kind of response. It's insane! So thank you, thank you so much!

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**Chapter Three**

**Heavy Heart of Stone**

Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, King under the Mountain sitting on his throne, surrounded by his people, all of whom were safe and sound back in their rightful homes, had a heavy heart.

He had no right to have one, it was Durin's Day, a day of celebration, farewelling an old year and welcoming a new one with open arms. And yet here he was with a heart as heavy as if it were made from stone.

_If only it was_, he thought grimly, _for stones do not feel_.

He feels too much, far too much and he has found no way of controlling these feelings or better yet, ridding himself of these frustrating and useless emotions that are slowly consuming him, killing him with their strength.

He leaves the celebrating as soon as he can without someone asking questions, but in his mind it isn't soon enough.

He returns back to his chambers and strips himself of his crown, which has been weighing heavily upon his brow with each passing hour, and his fine fur robes so that he is now simply dressed in clothes that are very similar to the ones he wore on the quest a year prior.

These were the clothes he was comfortable in, not fine, long fur robes and a heavy crown on his head, no, he wore those things only when necessary, when the occasion called for him to look like the Kings of Old, but only at these times. The rest of his time, he looked as he had always looked before he reclaimed his throne.

He was warrior, always ready for battle, waiting for the first howls of incoming wargs or the harsh blows of Goblin war horns. He had spent too many years battling for his and his people's lives to settle down into the role of King.

He was a fine diplomat when he needed to be but usually he needed Balin by his side to make sure he didn't lose his temper at whoever he was meeting with. Give him a bloody war and life-threatening situations over mountains of paper work any day. His father and grandfather had been good at these types of things, as was his sister and thankfully Fili was showing a knack for it is well, but himself? No, he was old and grumpy and had never been good with people.

Oh yes, he can order them around, keep them alive and be a good leader to them during times of war and suffering but as soon as it comes a time of peace and prosperity, he is worse than useless to his people something he had always feared he would become.

How can he be a good ruler when his own nephew can barely stand to be in the same room with him and his old friends are even less unhappy being safe and sound back in their home than they had been when they had been hungry and out in the wild, with Goblins and wargs bitting their heels.

_It's because of her_, a nasty voice sneers at the back of his head, _it's always because of her_.

Thorin shoves the voice back to the far depths of his mind. The last time he had listened to that voice he had made a grave and horrible mistake. And possibly from that mistake had caused the death of someone whom had known little of what she had actually done but had only their best interest at heart.

He shakes his head again. He didn't want to think of her either, though she is almost always on his thoughts, always there near the back of his mind, constantly tormenting him with her presence.

He stalks from his chambers and down some side stairs leading to a rarely used side gate.

He nods sharply to the guard on duty, who nods tightly back before returning to his unshifting stance.

Thorin and these guards have an agreement, when he leaves by this door, unattended, at night; they speak not a word to anyone about it. Their King's business was his own and if they remained silent about his midnight walks, they found themselves rewarded in small but meaningful ways.

Thorin walked carefully down the unused steps for they were starting to crack and crumble, but as this gate is rarely used by anyone other than himself – and he suspects a few members of his company – no one has found the need or the time to repair them. Which actually suits Thorin just fine. He has no wish for any dwarves besides himself – and his company – to be visiting the place where these old, worn stairs lead to. But still, he treads carefully as he moves further down the battered, crumbling stairs.

They lead him to a small and sheltered area that he can't remember what it was used for before Smaug had taken the mountain as his own. Now it was used as a graveyard. A graveyard with only one grave. One grave that held no body.

He hesitates at the bottom of the stairs as he always does before he goes over to the empty grave. It's not that he feels unwelcome here which really considering all things he really should, he had all but signed her death warrant.

No, the problem was, he does feel welcomed here.

Hobbits, he learned fairly early on during their travels, forgave quickly. No matter what the offense might have been towards her, after maybe a couple of hours of being quiet and sulky or maybe after a night's sleep, all would be forgiven and forgotten and she was back to being the smiling, chattering creature whom he was constantly torn between wanting to strangle and wanting to keep by his side always for fear that she will come to some harm.

And she had. Of course she had, she always fell into the company of trouble whenever she left their side. Only, with this last time, she did not come back to them like she had all those other times, she didn't come back because she was dead.

Dead and all because she had already forgiven him for his horrible and cruel actions towards her and was so stupidly loyal to him that she had thrown herself into a battle that she had little to no hope of surviving even with her magic ring.

She had saved his life, more than once and he hadn't been able to repay her. Oh, he had saved her from falling off a cliff and from some trolls – then she proceeded to save him and the rest of their company with her quick wit and intelligence – and from a few other small things like that, but still, she had done more for him than he had ever done for her.

He had tried to give her his love and his trust but in the moment that she had needed him to trust in her, he had thrown her out, too furious and mad with golden greed that he didn't see that she was once again been trying to save him, this time from himself.

And then to make matters worse, she had saved him again after he had thrown her out, renounced her.

She had come and saved him when he had been close to death from the wounds that Azog – who was now dead, thank you very much – had paid him.

He had been on his own, half trapped beneath the body of the pale orc who had slain his grandfather and threaten the lives of his nephews, the battle raging on around him when he felt something trying to lift the great weight off his bruised and battered body.

He could hear stifled sobs and laboured breaths near his side, feel the great weight being slowly lifted off him but he could see no one.

"Bill-Billanna?" He had choked out, moving his free and unbroken hand, reaching out for her. He touched her leg which was slick with sweat and blood, both of which stain his fingers.

"Are-are you just going to lie there," she whimpered breathlessly, "or are you going to help me?"

With more effort than it should have taken, together they managed to roll the monster off him.

"His warg?" Thorin had wheezed, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs, back and lower body. In fact his whole body was in pain, no where hurt more or less than anywhere else. Death, in his mind, couldn't come quickly enough.

"Dead." She says it so bluntly, so coldly that he can't help but look sharply at her. Or at least the place where he thinks she is standing.

"You would know…"

"I just do." She snaps and he drops it, for now.

"You should go, save yourself, return to the Shire, to your nice Hobbit-hole and books, armchair and garden."

"Oh, I plan to," she replies and he feels her move behind his head. The nerves in his shoulders and arms jump and scream when he feels her tiny hands tuck themselves beneath his arms and she starts to pull him away from the Azog's corpse, "once I've saved you… again, then I'm off."

"Leave! Now!" He snapped and tried to struggle against her insistent pulling. She was surprisingly strong, to be able to pull his broken, fully-armoured body across the battlefield.

"No."

"Stupid Hobbit."

"Stubborn Dwarf." She snapped back with just as much venom. "Just shut up and let me help you."

He fell silent then and simply allowed her to pull him into a small rocky shelter, away and hidden from the rest of the battle.

"Everyone else?" he asked gruffly as she fussed over him, trying to get him as comfortable as she possibly can.

"All still fighting," She replied and he can hear the sadness and tears in her broken voice.

"None have fallen?"

"Bombur went down for a moment or two but Bofur and Bifur fought off the Goblins who had jumped him. Ori got into a nasty tussle with a huge orc but he managed to fight it off all by himself, but he received a horrible wound to his arm. I don't know if he'll ever able to write again." The sobs are thick in her voice as she tells him of the current predicaments of his – their company.

"Your cousin, Dain, is very impressive with his hammer," she continued to inform him, "took off five Orc heads with one swing." She sounds torn between being impressed and disgusted. He had a hard time fighting back a grin at her tone before thinking that that shouldn't have been something she should have seen. None of this was something she should have seen. A Hobbit had no place in a battle.

"Why, why did you come back? Why are you here, instead of somewhere safe?"

"By the time we knew what was going on, the Goblins and Wargs were upon us, we - I had no time to get anywhere safe. Even if there had been…" she trails off and he wishes, not for the first time during this strange and slightly uncomfortable and painful encounter, that he could see her.

"You have your ring and you have proven time upon time before that you are quick and silent on your feet. You could easily leave without being spotted."

"Not when I have Wargs bearing down on me, I can't." She snapped.

"What? How?"

"They can smell me."

"Even threw all this?" he had asked sceptically, waving his hand weakly in the direction the huge battle still raging on nearby.

"Yes, even threw all this. The White Warg gave me quite the chase before I managed to throw it off."

"The white… Azog's warg?"

"Yes, it was quite insisted on getting its teeth into me." She replied dryly but he can feel her body trembling.

"I'm…" what, he had thought. Sorry? Sorry seemed fairly weak compared to everything she had gone through because of him.

"It's alright. They're both gone now."

"Are you hurt?"

She takes a long moment to answer him before saying that she will be fine. He doesn't like that, he doesn't like that answer at all.

He had reached out blindly and managed, by mere chance, to catch hold of one of her wrists in his hand, fumbling with her trembling fingers, searching for the plain gold band that had the ability to turn her invisible.

She tried to squirm away from him, but her desire to not cause him any pain worked in his favour and he was able to pull the ring free from her finger.

The moment it left her finger, she was visible, glaring at him under several layers of blood and dirt and wildly tangled hair, more brown than the golden colour it was when cleaned. Her clothes were ripped and torn worse than they had been the last time he had seen her.

Overall, she looked positively miserable and further confirmed his thoughts that war was no place for Hobbits.

"You should not have gotten involved." He said, groaning as he leans back against a rock, dropping her magic ring into the palm of her hand.

"You would be dead if I didn't." she replied, her brown eyes serious and defiant. She moved to get up and leave him, peering cautiously out of their shelter.

"Go, save yourself." He tells her but she shakes her head.

"I think I can see Dwalin and Fili. I'll go and get them and bring them here and then," she looks back him, her small shoulders hunched and he can see the sadness, pain and regret clouding her earthy orbs, "then I'll go." And never come back, you'll never have to see me again. She had left all that unsaid between them.

She pulls her ring out of her ruined waist coat pocket and slips it.

"Stay safe." She tells him firmly, "Stay safe, do you hear me? And don't die! You're not allowed to die, do you hear? I'm didn't go through all this for you to go and die on me!"

He opened his mouth to growl back at her, to snap at her that that was no way to address a King but speaking has grown hard for him and his eyes have grown heavy.

The next time he wakes, the battle is over, the eagles have come and their burglar was nowhere to be seen.

He told no one of his meeting with her which now felt more like a dream – though how did he manage to get himself all the way from Azog's corpse into the rocky shelter he was found in without helped? – and he kept mostly silent when Gandalf came to them a day or so later demanding to know where the hobbit was.

He regretted his words he spoke – he regretted a lot of words he spoke – to the wizard and he still cringed with guilt when he thought back on the last words that the wizard had spoken to him in return.

They hadn't seen him again since those early days after battle. He left in a great hurry on a white steed with Beorn, in his great bear form, beside him. Thorin did not know the reason behind the Wizard's leaving but he didn't question it as it wasn't the first time the Wizard had up and left when he was most needed.

Instead he focused on trying to heal and trying not to think too hard on what might have happened to the burglar, especially when her blue coat was brought to him, bloodied and ripped to pieces. In his dream of her, he remembers her wearing it, but he can't remember if it was already torn and bloody then.

It was just a dream, he thinks over and over again, but if it was just a dream then why had she been on the battlefield? A rabbit caught between a net and a trap, maybe?

He tries not to think about her, focuses on healing and rebuilding his great kingdom and making amends with the menfolk and grudgingly with the elves. Only problem with dealing with them is each time he looks of them, he starts thinking of her.

They had liked her, apparently and actually put quite a bit of effort into the search for her and had been almost as disappointed and dishearten as Thorin's company had been when she wasn't recovered.

He wasn't sure what happened to her coat once he was healed enough to move about and started organising the cleaning process of Erebor. He made a point of staying away from the gold, not wishing for the madness that had seized him earlier to take hold of him once more.

He kept himself busy creating treaties between the men and elves, looking over the structural integrity of his mountain, with its many halls and rooms destroyed from Smaug's attack, while also trying to learn how to be a King as he went.

It was almost a full month before he saw her coat again, washed and mended now and looking more like the coat she had worn during the last stage of their journey.

His throat had grown tight when he had seen it seated on a workbench in the workroom that Bofur and Bifur had claimed as their own.

His throat had grown all the tighter when he saw what was sitting next to it.

Her backpack, the only possession that had made it all the way from its place of origin to its destination.

They had called it her magic pack due to no matter how many times she lost it, it somehow always managed to find its way back to her. Like when they had lost all their things but the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands during their capture by the Goblins from Goblin Town. While everyone had lost their packs, Gandalf had returned hers to her once she had returned after she had been briefly lost.

The pack had stayed with her all through Mirkwood, during their time captured by the elves and even through their horrid barrel-ride to Long Lake, the damn thing stayed with her. And now…

The pack had been found in the place where they had spent their final night as a whole company, neatly packed and tucked away in a corner, waiting for its mistress to come and claim it.

She hadn't and seeing the pack and remembering the joke that it would always find its way back to her, no matter what, seemed to solidify her death for them.

Not all of them, he knew that his youngest nephew and Ori still held out a hope that she had somehow survived and escaped the battle, but the rest of them accepted the inevitable. She was dead and despite her betrayal, she needed a proper burial.

They knew a little about a Hobbits funeral from Bilbo, as she had told them all about her culture when they asked her, telling them too much in some of their minds, but Hobbits didn't have great secrets – well besides from some family recipes which Bilbo held close to her chest and refused to tell the secret ingredient to Bombur, no matter how he had begged – and their ways were very simple and were basically all about comfort. Including their funerals.

Their funerals were meant to be a happy affair, a time to remember the departed hobbits life with laughter and love, by being together, to comfort each other with their numbers and love. And afterwards a great feast – or a picnic as Bilbo had called it – was held in the departed hobbits honour and a grand time was meant to be had by all.

It was all quite different to a dwarven funeral, which was a serious and sombre affair, but they managed a sort of mixture of the two.

They had it at night and Bombur had cooked up a feast for them to eat. They found this little area, out of the way and not easy to get to without using the battered stairs. Some of them had even brought flowers with them too.

It had been awkward at first, what with several of them still not speaking to each other – in fact Thorin can't even remember how this whole thing came about, though he suspected that Bofur, Bombur and Ori were behind it, along with getting each one of the company there – but they eventually forgot about their fights, at least for that night and had a reasonably good time speaking of the better parts of their quest, Fili and Kili enthusiastically retelling the tale of Bilbo rescuing them all from the spiders and their barrel-ride and so on. It was a good night, Thorin remembered and he only wished that that feeling of good will had stayed with them afterwards.

"They miss you, some more than others, but they all miss you." He says as he plucks some grass between his fingers as he looks anywhere other than the small tombstone with a small, beautifully crafted metal box sitting at its base that contains her coat and backpack – it was all that had of her to bury.

He instead looks at the flowers that are growing all around the small area; he must make a point to thank Dori and Ori for keeping this area so lovely. They'd both get quite flustered of course for his temper always got a bit unstable whenever anything to do with her was brought up.

"I don't mean to be," he admits, "but…" He trails off unsure of how to finish his sentence. He was never good with words of sentiment when he doesn't have a fight in front of him.

"You always were able to bring out the worst in me." He finally growls before sighing, "and the best in me. How can someone so small and fragile bring out so many different and conflicting emotions in just one person?"

He got no answer in return, of course, but when he closed his eyes, he swore he heard her laughter. Her laughter, so different from a Dwarf women's laugh with it being so bright and happy, causing her face to become pink and her eyes to twinkle.

She hadn't laughed very much during the early stages of their journey, but as she had grown used to them and they grew used to her, the more she had and the more uncontrollable her laughter had become.

He smiles as he remembers her being bent double, clutching her belly, close to falling into a heap on the ground from laughing so hard at something his nephews and their companions had done.

Aule, how he had loved her laugh.

It had irritated him at first for it was so bright and happy, filled with a life that had not known true hardship and grief. But as time went on he grew to live for that sound.

He had never been very good at making her laugh, not like his nephews or Bofur, all of whom could have her giggling away with a few clever words but, but he had been very good at making her smile.

She smiled at him whenever he had praised her, even when some had been rather back handed compliments, she had still smiled a small shy smile back at him that had done nasty and puzzlingly things to his heart rate.

As time went on and he grew more accepting of her presence in their company – this being after she saved him from Azog… for the first time – he found himself working harder to get her smiling at him.

Not that that was an incredibly hard thing to do.

It wasn't hard to get Miss Baggins to smile at you; a kind word here, a compliment to her cooking there, simple things like that could get you a smile that rivalled the Sun in brightness. But that hadn't been what Thorin had wanted he quickly discovered much to his shock and slight dismay, he had wanted more than the smile that she gave each and every one of their company, he wanted a smile that was more specific, more directed. He wanted a smile that was solely his and no one else's.

He got it too, after awhile, when they had once more been captured, this time by tall, pointy-eared bastards.

During their capture and the planning of their escape the hobbit lass had spent a great deal of her time – when she wasn't wandering the eleven halls searching for a way of getting them all out – down by his cell.

It during these times that he had finally learnt the name her mother had given her, 'Billanna', and had finally accepted that he did indeed love her because she had finally graced him with a smile that he had never seen before but knew immediately was solely for him.

He had kissed her then and laughed when they drew back and he saw how brilliant a shade of red she was.

She had tried to glare at him but had failed so instead she did the next best thing. She slipped on her magic ring and disappeared right before his eyes and darted off to work on her escape plan for them.

He didn't tell her of his love or proved it until they had reached Laketown. It was there that he had all but thrown caution to the wind.

She had been very shy at first, not knowing, never having experience this kind of love before. Which was a good thing, in his opinion or else he would have had to have murdered the fellow who had introduced her.

She had laughed at that and smiled his smile as her eyes twinkled.

He swallowed thickly and shook his head.

It hurt too much to keep thinking of her like this. It was easier when he pretended that she had never existed to begin with.

It is selfish of him, he knows, Aule he knows, but being selfish with his emotion has been how he's survived. In times when he couldn't afford to allow for his emotions to rule his head, he had all but shut them off and now, he was facing the consequences.

He shook his head again, wishing that he had brought some alcohol with him. Or maybe, he had drunk just enough at the feast to lower his usual high and impenetrable walls – she hadn't needed any alcohol to break down his walls, only herself – and is allowing his emotions and memories to move freely within him.

_Just for tonight_, he thinks, closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel the soft of the green grass beneath his fingers and for his nose to be filled the flowers blooming around him.

_Just for tonight_, he would let it all come back to him and then he would return to being the King that his people needed and wanted him to be.

_Just for tonight_.

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**Author's Note:** So that was eight pages full of pure Thorin angst! I'm a bit worried that I might have made him too forgiving to early, but I wanted to get around to writing grief-ridden, guilty Thorin. I've read enough angry, pissed-off Thorin fics that I don't really feel like writing him like that here. At least, not yet. I suppose he'll get mad once he finds out Bilbo has given birth to their son, who is the reincarnation of Durin and didn't tell him for how many years I decide to keep them apart. Then I see him getting plenty mad. At himself, at Bilbo, at everyone I'm thinking.

Anyway, next chapter we jump about two years adn we're back with Bilbo, Gandalf and lil'Frodo. Stay tune. Reviews are much loved 3


	4. A Short but Welcome Visit

**Author's Note:** And we're back to Bilbo, Gandalf and lil'Frodo/Durin and have jumped about two years.  
This chapter is more of a filler chapter but it is setting up a few crucial things for later chapters.

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**Chapter Four**

**A Short but Welcome Visit**

_Two years and six months later_

"Gandy! Gandy!"

Bilbo fought back an amused smile as her small son squealed out his version of the name of his favourite wizard.

"Ah, young Mister Frodo, how you've grown." The grey wizard was standing by her front gate smiling fondly at the little toddler who was squirming within his mother's embrace so as to be let down and to be able to run to the wizard's side.

"Good morning." Bilbo greeted the wizard with a sly, knowing smile which he returned.

"Good morning, Miss Baggins and what a fine morning we are having."

Bilbo smiled before sighing.

"Alright, alright, I'll let you down." She sighed while also fighting back laughter as she set her son gently down upon the soft green grass by the wooden bench they had been sitting on together, reading one of her favourite books, before Gandalf had shown up quite unexpectedly at their gate.

He promptly stood up from where he had been sat and trotted carefully over to where Gandalf stood on the opposite side of the gate.

"Gandy." The little lad held his arms up for the Gandalf to pick him, which the wizard cheerfully obliged, bending down and carefully swinging the lad up and over the garden gate and onto his hip.

"Irewoks, Gandy, irewoks!" Frodo squealed, bouncing up and down on Gandalf hip as his mother opened the gate for Gandalf to step into her lushy and vibrant green garden, her flowers in full bloom.

"Not now, my darling, it's still light out." Bilbo replied smiling up at her son who beamed back at her. He was such a happy child, so unlike his…

"Tea, Gandalf?" She asked as she led the wizard up her front steps to her round green front door.

"Please. I am not here for a long visit I'm afraid. Simply passing through and thought to drop in to see how you were doing." The wizard replied as he followed the hobbit to her kitchen, carefully sitting down at her low table without jostling the little lad on his hip who was contently playing with his beard.

The lad took great enjoyment in playing with facial hair, it being an unseen quality in the male hobbit and so took every opportunity to play with Gandalf's beard whenever the wizard paid them a visit. Lucky for the wizard the lad had quickly learnt not to pull.

"Where are you off to?" Bilbo asked as she put the kettle on and set some biscuits upon the table.

"Oh, here and there," Gandalf replied with a wink as he took a biscuit from the plate, broke it in two, passing the smaller half to the toddler who happily started sucking on the treat so that it became soft and mushy in his mouth.

"No adventures? Not here to lure any unsuspecting hobbit lad or lass out of their safe and cosy homes with the promises of treasure and glory?" Bilbo teased.

"If I didn't know any better, my dear hobbit lass, I would start to think that you had become cynical in your still reasonably young age."

Bilbo snorted.

"I've always been rather cynical."

"I would more of said sceptical, but believe what you will about yourself, as it is yourself who should be the one who know best."

"Not always." Bilbo replied softly from where she stood by the kettle waiting for it to boil.

"No," Gandalf agreed softly, "Not always."

"Irewoks, Gandy, irewoks."

Bilbo smiled at her son, pleased to have a reason to not think about the past even though the past had quite a lot to do with her son's creation.

"Not this time I fear, my dear little fellow, not this time."

The little boy opened his mouth as if to cry or protest before shutting it again, a resolved look appearing in his blue eyes.

He wiggled out of Gandalf's laps, landing smartly on his feet before tottering off out of the room.

"I do hope I have not upset him too greatly." Gandalf commented. From his experience with other hobbit children – which was very little, really – that while they could become easily upset over almost anything, they got over it again just as quickly, usually with the help of some kind of treat or some small present.

Dwarf children however, being quite like their parents took their displeasure over something to great levels, usually carrying it over into pre-adulthood and adulthood. And if you just so happened to be associated with whatever had caused them displeasure as a child, well you had better look out. It took a frustratingly long time to get out a dwarf's bad books, especially with a grudge that has been held since childhood.

"Doubtful." Bilbo replied with a smile, "more like… ah, here he is."

And sure enough, Frodo Baggins was tottering back into the kitchen holding several pieces of paper in his hands, clutching them closely to his chest. He came to once more stand by Gandalf side, looking up at the wizard expectantly with his brilliant blue eyes.

_Just like his fathe_r, the wizard thought_, Durin's line certainly is strong. Though that should be expected, considering_…

He lifted the lad up onto the bench beside him, still looking over the soft black curls and sapphire blue eyes.

"What have you there, my dear lad?"

With a small, shy smile, Frodo showed him and Gandalf didn't have to try hard to look impressed with the child's drawings. While still being very child-like, there was also an age to them that was certainly impressive in a two almost three year old child.

He glanced over at the lad's mother who was pouring their tea.

"Do ya like?" the lad asked shyly. "I dew the dwagon 'om Mama story. See…" the boy shuffled through the papers to show Gandalf a very impressive rendition of Smaug, obviously drawn by a very young child's hand but still remarkable accurate.

"Impressive. Very impressive. You have quite a talent, my little fellow."

"He does, doesn't he?" Gandalf glanced back up at Bilbo and sees her worry, her concern for her already unique child.

"You an ave 'em Gandy" The boy said with a wide smile.

Gandalf smiled back at the lad.

"Thank you, I will keep them close and look at them often." The boy's smile was so wide it was, Gandalf was sure, in this home at least, a rival to the Sun itself.

"Is it normal?" Gandalf looked down at the hobbit. She had just tucked her son into bed for his afternoon nap and had checked on her still resting father and was now showing Gandalf out.

"Him being able to draw like he already does? Is it normal for Dwarrow children?"

"Dwarrow children discover their trade early on in life, though I've never heard of it happening this early, but…" He added quickly when he saw the nervousness in Bilbo's brown eyes, "that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. You know how secretive Dwarves can be."

Bilbo snorted but made no reply.

"Do not fear Bilbo, Frodo is a healthy lad with a talent for drawing."

"Ori will be thrilled." Bilbo commented with a small smile before sighing heavily as she thought of the young dwarf whom had come to be like a little brother to her. In fact all the dwarves, by the end, had all become something like brothers to her. All except one, but she doesn't think about him, as much as she can help it.

She notices that the wizard was watching her closely and forced herself to smile before frowning when she noticed that he was wearing a slightly worried expression on his old, wise face.

"What is it Gandalf?"

"Hmmm, oh it is nothing really but…"

"What is it?" She persisted. Too often she was kept in the dark over something during their quest and she was quite sick of it if she must say so herself.

"A trading route is being set up between the Ered Luin and Erebor and I believe it will be passing quite close by to the Shire."

Bilbo swallowed nervously.

"I doubt that they'll ever actually come into the Shire. We have nothing of interest to trade with them, except maybe food. But it would spoil long before they returned to Erebor." Bilbo said trying to calm her racing heart.

"I agree with you," The wizard replied with a nod of his head, "but I thought that this would be something you would like to know."

"I doubt that any of them would be a part of any of the trading parties moving between Ered Luin and Erebor." Bilbo whispered to herself. "And even if any of them were, they wouldn't come to the Shire. They think I'm dead, so they wouldn't." She shakes her head, feeling silly over the tears that are threatening to betray her true feelings to the wizard.

She felt a large and solid hand being placed upon her shoulder and looked up into the wizard's wise, sad dark eyes.

"All will work out the way it should."

"That's it?" Bilbo asked with a weak smile, "That's the best advice you have for me?"

"At the moment? Yes."

Bilbo shook her head, laughing softly.

"Of course. Can't get a sensible word out of wizard unless it suits him."

"I'm sorry Bilbo that I cannot leave you with more."

"It's fine." The hobbit lass replied with a shake of her blonde curls. "You will come and visit us soon, won't you? Frodo does miss you something terrible when you're away."

"I will try, my dear, I will try."

"If you see any of them, tell them…" she trailed off, biting down upon her lower lip, "never mind."

"The last I saw of them, though they did not see me, they were all doing very well."

_In body, maybe but not in soul_, the Wizard thought sadly as he looked down at the hobbit before him.

If only she knew how much they missed her, mourned for her. If only they weren't so stubborn to admit it to themselves, then maybe the company wouldn't be in this mess.

He shakes his head before giving his burglar a small bow which causes her to blush and return the gesture awkwardly.

He remembered fondly on a time when she had laughingly made the gesture when three particular royals had either amused or annoyed her in some way and she had just won the argument against them.

Now she fumbled with the motion, her back very stiff and she gave none of the dramatic flair that she had once had accompanying it.

"Goodbye for now my dear hobbit, I will see you soon."

"Goodbye Gandalf. I hope so."

With a final wave and bow the wizard left, feeling the hobbit's eyes following him all the way down the lane until he was out of sight.

Once he was out of sight, he allowed his shoulders to drop with relief.

She was fine, both of them were, it was silly of him to have paid so much heed to those rumours but still…

He shuddered as he remembered the whispers he had heard, rumours that a pack of Goblins and Wargs were making their way to the green lands of the small folk, to steal away the small folk known as Baggins for her part in the death of Azog, their great leader.

Just rumours these whispers had proven to be. For he had seen no signs of Goblins and Wargs making their way so far north and near the Shire, but still he had pressed on, into the Shire and into Hobbiton, to see for himself, to prove to himself that she was safe and sound.

She was, as safe and sound as their adventure could leave her.

He knew that she still suffered from nightmares from their journey, he could see the evidence of them from the bags under her eyes and the nervous nature she held herself. But she was safe and mostly happy, her son being the light of her life, he knew and he was grateful that Thorin, unknowingly, had left her with this one but precious treasure.

He shook his grey head again.

He would return again soon, around Frodo's birthday, he should think.

With this thought in mind, he gave his head a sharp nod before making his way out of the Shire, to parts unknown.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First off writing for a two year old is horrible. I don't like it. I can't wait to age Frodo a couple more years. But annoyingly, that won't be for a little while longer.  
Next chapter we're back with Bofur and a few other dwarves.


	5. A Set Path, Lost of Way

**Author's Note:** Hello there. Here is chapter five and we've back with dear ol' Bofur. What can I say, I love him. If I wasn't such a fem!Bilbo/Thorin fan, I would most definitely have paired my Billanna with Bofur. Bofur deserves all the love in the world... he really does :)

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**A Set Path, Lost of Way**

"Your Uncle is not going to approve of this Kili." Bofur sighed, half-heartedly trying to convince the young prince to go on to Ered Luin with the rest of their party.

The young Dwarf shot him a look that almost rivalled his uncle's in its fierceness and Bofur sighed again, but also felt a small smile grace his lips beneath his beard.

This hadn't been planned, not at all. It had been a passing fancy a night or so ago, when he recognised some landmarks that he had seen during their journey to and from the Shire some four or so years ago.

He hadn't meant to speak his desire to see the Shire again out loud in the hearing range of a Prince looking for any excuse to get away from the rest of their party, a cousin who was all but fed up with their current company as all except for their small group had given up trying to converse with him - just because he only spoke Khuzdul, didn't mean he didn't want to be included in conversations - and a young scribe who had taken a liking to the Shire – the people there suited his personality far more closely than his own kin – and was happy to go along with any excuse to visit it, even if he was a tad worried about the consequences that may follow.

"We're going to be caught." Ori mumbled as they encouraged their ponies down a small, but well-cared for road leading them through rolling green hills and patches of woodlands.

"No one said you had to come along Ori." Kili replied as he took a bite of an apple he had snared when they passed an orchard earlier. "Besides, Uncle never said we couldn't return to the Shire, only that…" his voice trailed off as his face filled with almost uncontrollable rage.

Bifur gave a grunted and Kili seemed to remember himself and went back to lounging in his saddle, munching on his apple.

"What are we hoping to… ah achieve?" Ori asked as he moved his pony next to Bofur so that they now rode side by side.

"To achieve? Why, a successful trading agreement between us and the Shire-folk, of course." Bofur replied with his easy smile. Or rather a poor copy of his once easy smile.

Ori gave him a very impressive mimic of his oldest brother's disbelieving and sceptical look, but the young red haired dwarf says nothing more and Bofur leads the way towards the heart of the Shire, towards Hobbiton and the answers of unasked questions might finally be answered.

"I can't believe you've gotten us lost, Ori! I thought you were meant to be good with directions!" Kili complained at the flustered red-headed dwarf some hours later.

"This country hasn't been laid out in any particular pattern; it's not like at home where everything is set out nicely! In this place the people just seem to randomly pick a bit of land to call their own, create a road or two to and from it and that's about it. We're lucky to get a signpost." Ori exclaimed, sounding quite stressed.

"We could always ask someone, couldn't we?" Bofur said, raising his voice so as to stop any further squabbling between the two.

Honestly, why had he agreed to allow them to come along again? He should have sent them on with the rest of the party to Ered Luin. He didn't care if he landed himself in the youngest prince's bad books, the boy would get over it eventually. He on the other hand, was quite ready to give the young prince a cheerful smack over the back of his head with his mattock if the lad didn't stop his whining for more than five seconds.

"Ask who?" Kili grumbled, "There's no one around!"

Bofur simply rolled his eyes before spurring his pony onwards.

After a five minute of searching, they came across a farm. At least, it looked like a farm to Bofur's eyes but you could never be sure with Shire folk, they were a queer lot. He thought he could make out a house off in the distance and he was certain that the fence they had come across was meant to keep people out of a field growing… something or other. Some kind of green vegetable was all he could tell.

"Who are you then?"

Bofur thought he did very well not to jump right out of his skin then and there when an unexpected voice called out to him from within the farm's fence line. It took another look into the farm's field for him to see the owner of the voice.

A hobbit man with messy brown curls streaked with grey, leaning against a pick was watching them closely with narrowed brown eyes. He wore clothes that had seen many hard days of work, but were still reasonably neat and respectable. A large wolf-like dog sat nearby, panting and eyed them in a way that made Bofur think that if the mutt was given the command, he'd given them all a good bite.

"Good day." Bofur called, putting on the best smile he could manage these days. He quickly saw that it did him little good when it only caused for the farmer to eye him with a further narrowing of his eyes.

"Good day." He replied slowly, "What are dwarves doing in these parts?" he asked after a moment, getting straight to the point.

"We've here to discuss…"

"We're here to visit a friend." Kili said, interrupting Bofur, who was once more fighting the desire to smack the young dwarf over the head.

"A friend?" the farmer replied, looking and sounding unconvinced. His mutt got slowly to its feet, watching them closely its lips curling back to show its impressive fangs.

"By the name of Baggins, yes." Kili went on, seemingly oblivious to the nasty mutt.

"Lad," the farmer snorted, "there are no Baggins in these parts, they're all up in Hobbiton and to my knowledge none of them would be friends with… well, you lot."

"What's that's supposed to mean!" Kili all but yelled before letting out a yelp as Bifur smacked him over the back of his skull with the hilt of his Boar Spear.

"All the same, we are here to see a Baggins," _hopefully_, Bofur thought though his heart was already sinking. This was a stupid idea, why had he allowed himself to hope so… "Where is the way to Hobbiton, my good sir? We're quite lost."

"Quite lost indeed, Master Dwarf, heading completely in the wrong direction in fact."

"Could you please give as the direction to Hobbiton?" Bofur asked.

The farmer heavied a great long suffering sigh before trotting over to them, leaning on the fence and gave Bofur some very thorough directions on how to get onto the East Road and when to turn off to go into Hobbiton. His huge dog followed him to the fence and was now sniffing Bifur's outstretched hand with interest.

"Which Baggins are you looking to meet with, if you don't mind my asking?" The farmer asked.

"Ah," Bofur hesitated for a moment, shooting a warning look at Kili to keep his mouth shut under pain of another smack to his head, "Bilbo Baggins."

"Bilbo, Bilbo, Bilbo." The farmer rolled the name over his tongue for several moments, "sounds familiar but can't say I know the lad personally."

"Oh, he isn't a he," Ori butted in quickly edging a little closer but keeping his eyes warily on the huge dog, "Bilbo is a hobbit lass."

"A lass?" the farmer frowned before his dark brown eyes widen, "Oh, you wouldn't mean Billanna Baggins, would you? Belladonna's lass? Heard that the lass went and got herself involved in some dwarrow folk misadventures a few years back."

"Ah, yes," Bofur said trying not take offense at the hobbit farmer's manner, "that'd be her. Is she still living in Hobbiton?"

"Haven't seen her in a good many years. Always kept to herself, she did. That is," and the farmer actually smirked, "when she wasn't leading a group of young whipper-snappers to steal my mushrooms."

"Stealing mushrooms?" Kili asked looking delightedly amused by this information. Obviously thinking of all the times she scolded him over sneaking extra helpings when no one else was looking.

"Yes, that she did. Would never have caught her too if it weren't for my dogs chasing her up a tree that one time." He patted his big dog's head, still smirking with amusement.

"Dogs? Chased her up a tree?" Kili was almost beside himself with laughter.

"Alright, calm down." Bofur said, forgetting for a moment that he was in fact talking to a prince – not that the lad acted like one most of the time – but he didn't have time for the lad's amusement, he had to find out the truth.

"So she's still living in Hobbiton?" _Is she still alive?_ Was what he really wanted to know, as so far the farmer had only spoken of her in past tense.

"I believe so." The farmer replied, running a worn, weather-beaten hand over his beardless chin thoughtfully, "Last I heard was of her coming back from her misadventures, a little worse for wear and apparently started waving some little blade about because she stumbled upon an auction taking place at her Hobbit-hole ."

"An auction?"

"Well, she was gone for an awfully long time, to wherever it was you lot took her to, that we all presumed she was dead. Her Pa didn't of course, but that wasn't enough to stop people talking and for the Sackville-Baggins to claim that they had ownership over Bag End, even though their lad of theirs never married Miss Billanna, but that family has always been a slippery lot."

"So, she came back?!" Bofur asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

"Of course she did." The farmer was now giving them all a very strange look, "With that tall grey fellow - what his name? Gandalf? - with her. He stayed for a while, or so I heard. He visits from time to time, to check of her and…" the farmer stopped suddenly and started eying them suspiciously once more.

"You lot, you're not here for any particular reason are you?"

"Um? Besides from wanting to see her, none that I can think of." Kili replied, maybe a tad to flippantly and made Bofur want to smack him over the head again, especially with the look that the farmer was currently giving him

The farmer was giving the young dwarf's a good, thorough looking over, eyeing the lad's dark hair in particular with an almost unreadable expression.

"You're not here to take her away on any more nonsense, are you?" the farmer asked them slowly and Bofur felt that if they gave the wrong answer now, the hobbit farmer would set his nasty mutt on them faster than any of them would be able to draw any of their many weapons.

"No sir." They vigorously shook their heads and farmer nodded, seeming to believe them.

"Farmer Maggot." He said after a moment, holding out a weather-worn, brown hand to Bofur.

"Bofur at your service." Bofur replied politely, still eying the farmer's dog warily, even though the mutt had now sat itself comfortably down by the farmer's feet. "And my companions are Kili, Ori and my cousin Bifur."

"At your service." The two young dwarves said as they bowed. Bifur, grunting slightly, followed their example.

"Well, I don't really need your service, but thanks to you anyways." Farmer Maggot chuckled. "Give my best to Miss Baggins and her father." He added as he waved them off.

"We will." Bofur assured him with a nod of his head. "Thank you for all your help." _And for not setting your nasty-looking dog on us_, he added privately to himself as his small company made their way in the direction that Farmer Maggot had directed them in.

They should reach Hobbiton in a few days, if they kept a good pace. They would have ridden straight to Hobbiton with no stops for food or sleep if it were up to Kili but Bofur had a firm hand and as much as he wanted to see the hobbit lass again, he knew it would be better than to turn up close to death on her doorstep, something he was quite sure she wouldn't appreciate one bit.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well most of you can probably guess what the next chapter is going to be about 'wink, wink, nudge, nudge'.  
And yes, I threw Farmer Maggot in and gave Bilbo a bit of Frodo's childhood backstory, but as this is an AU, who says I can't? Besides, I like Farmer Maggot and he's awesome wolf-like dogs and I don't read many fanfics that have him in them, so I put him in mine.


	6. An Unexpected Discovery

**Author's Note:** Here is chapter six and the chapter we've all been waiting for, though I suppose the chapter everyone is really waiting for is Thorin finding out about Frodo, but that still won't be happening for a little while longer yet.  
Anyway, this chapter is again from Bofur's POV. I suppose I could have done it from one of the other dwarves povs, but I couldn't be bothered and I like writing for Bofur, he makes me smile.  
Anyway, please enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**An Unexpected Discovery**

It took them three days of hard ridding for them to reach Hobbiton by mid-evening.

They left their ponies with a stable master on the outskirts of Hobbiton, paying him enough to keep their ponies for a week.

The stable master took their money with a quiet and unsure air about him but he was a reasonably cheerful fellow so none of them held it against him. He was also happy enough to direct them to Bag End.

"Are you Master Baggins Dwarves?" He asked as they were leaving the stables, his curiosity overriding his shyness.

"Ah… Master Baggins?" Bofur can't help but question. It wasn't the first time he had heard Bilbo or should he say Billanna – how could she never have told them her real name? He understood at the beginning of their quest together but by the end? – being called 'Master Baggins'. She had been addressed by this title for much of their journey, when she wasn't being called 'Bilbo' or her less than endearing titles 'the burglar' or 'the hobbit'.

Master Baggins, he is a more than a little ashamed to admit that for some of his fellow dwarves the title had been used, at first, as a form of insult towards her, as they had all presumed before meeting her that they were going to have a male hobbit burglar and instead got a hobbit lass who was the mistress of her Hobbit-hole and had been for quite some time after her father fallen ill and was quite set in her ways, but after a time, it had become a form of endearment, much like her other titles which changed from 'the burglar' and 'the hobbit' to 'their burglar' and 'their hobbit'.

The stable master blushed and muttered under his breath that he had meant Mistress Baggins.

"It's alright," Bofur said quickly, "We knew who you meant and yes, we are. You know of us?"

"From Master Baggin's, I mean, Mistress Baggin's stories. She's always telling them, but," the stable master went red once more, "I never thought that they were anything more than that, I must admit. It's a pleasure to meet you all, even if I must say that some of things you did on those adventures of yours were truly quite mad."

"And don't we know it," Kili replied with a wide grin, "cheers my good fellow." And with that the young prince was all but running out of the stables.

"I feel almost bad for unleashing him upon poor Bilbo without so much as a warning." Ori said, as he carefully stretched his stiff writing arm – its old wound was twinging from all the hard ridding he had been doing over the past few days – as the three dwarves followed after their prince.

"Yes, well, she wouldn't have had to have worried about needing to be pre-warned about him if she hadn't let us think she was dead for almost four years." Bofur replied rolling his stiff shoulders, trying to contain the bubble of excitement that was brewing within his belly.

"Like I said, I _almost_ feel bad for her." Ori said with a small grin and Bifur let out a grunting chuckle.

It was reasonably dark when they finally arrived at Bagshot Row and could clearly see, despite the darkness, Bag End at the top of the hill with its huge tree growing from the top of it. They could all see a hearty glow coming from several of the windows and it made their hope grow all the more stronger.

"Alright Lads, we've come this far," Bofur said after they had stood at the bottom of Bagshot Row for well over five minutes.

"What if – what if she doesn't want to see us?" Ori asked softly.

"That's the risk we must take, but we will at least know that she is alive and happy, if nothing else." Bofur replied cheerfully even though his stomach was doing somersault. This had, of course, since finding out she was alive, been his fear as well.

They walked quickly, but with forced casually so as to not draw too much attention to themselves, up the lane, up to the Hobbit-hole at the top of the hill, the Hobbit-hole with its bright green round door and round brass knob.

Bofur went first to the front door, followed closely by the others but it took several more moments for him to actually build up the courage to knock.

His heart almost stopped beating for a moment when he heard a familiar voice snapping from somewhere within the Hobbit-hole

"Lobelia, for the last time, I am not marrying your son! I don't care if I'm a disgrace to the family and that people are talking. They can talk all they like for all I care but I will not… No, I refuse to marry…" the round green door swung open revealing to them a very annoyed looking hobbit lass with thick golden brown curls, annoyed but sensible brown eyes, wearing a dress of soft blue.

"Him…" She trailed off as she saw them, her brown eyes widening, first with relief and something Bofur was sure might be delight before those emotions dissolved into something close to absolute horror that was near broke Bofur's heart to see.

She then let out a small scream and the next thing Bofur knew was that he was being smack, very hard, over the head by something long and solid – he heard several yelps and grunts and figured he wasn't the only one to be hit with whatever it was she was hitting them with – before the round green door was being slammed in their face.

He winced as it slammed against his foot which he had stuck in the doorframe without even thinking the moment Bilbo had let out that heartbreaking scream.

"Bofur," He heard her cry from the other side of the door, "get your great, big foot out of the way!"

"No," he replied simply and with a look to his fellow dwarves, the four of them started pushing back against the door.

Unsurprisingly, it fell open without much trouble and Bilbo was hopping awkwardly backwards down her hall, trying to regain her balance via the use of a wicked looking umbrella.

"DIDN'T YOUR MOTHERS EVER TELL THAT IT'S RUDE TO ENTER A HOME UNINVITED!?" Bilbo was all but screaming at them once she had gotten her balance back and was scowling at them with such anger that Bofur almost felt inclined to leave her Hobbit-hole.

Bifur who was not understanding a thing of what was going on, only seeing that their Burglar was indeed very much alive but very, very upset over something – not realising that he himself was a part of the something that she was upset over – moved forward and before anyone, including Bilbo herself, could stop him, had his arms around her and hugging her close.

Bilbo struggled for only a moment before simply giving into Bifur's embrace, even returning it a little, though she still looked quite upset and distressed by what was a occurring in her front hallway.

"What-What are you all doing here?" She squeaked out once Bifur has released her from his embrace, her eyes darting nervously out her front door as if expecting nine more Dwarves to come stomping into her front hall.

She probably was, Bofur guessed. It wasn't the first time she had multiple groups on dwarves appearing on her front doorstep on one night.

"It's just us." Ori reassures her gently. He has always been good at reassuring and Bofur can see the hobbit lass's shoulders beginning to relax despite her still troubled expression.

She swallows thickly before turning her troubled brown eyes back on to them. Bofur can see, with the light from the hall lamps, a nasty ragged scar cutting its way from her hairline down the right side of her face. She hadn't had _that_ when she had left them.

_Forced to leave_, he thinks bitterly.

He wants to ask her about it – he wants to ask her a great many things – but knows that now really isn't the time, not when she was still looking so upset and close to beating them out of her home with that nasty looking umbrella that she was still holding.

"What are you four doing here?" She repeats again, her word spoken in a slow, cold tone that Bofur is sure she learnt from her time spent with them and when Thorin was in a particularly bad mood.

"Visiting?" Ori offers with a weak smile. The red-haired lad actually looks quite frighten of the cold lass standing before them, wicked umbrella in hand.

"We thought you were _DEAD_!" Kili exclaimed cutting his way straight to the chase, his face twisted in anger and pain and grief as he takes a step towards her. Bofur admired her for not taking a step back, for Kili truly looked quite frightening as he advanced on her.

"We thought you were killed in the battle! We mourned for you, are _still_ mourning for you and all this time you were here, safe and sound with not even a word sent back to us to tell us any different!"

"Of course I didn't!" Bilbo cried back, looking as angry and hurt as Kili looked. "How dare you! How dare you make this my fault when it was you lot who kicked me out! I didn't think you wanted to know I was live! I thought you would be happy to think I was killed by some Orc or Warg during the battle! Your Kingly Uncle said as much, so don't you dare make this all my fault!"

"We weren't!" Kili snapped back, his dark eyes fighting back tears, "we weren't! We looked for you, once Gandalf came to us telling us you were missing, we looked for you! We found your coat, shredded and bloody, and thought you were…" he swallowed thickly, "and thought you were…"

"Dead." Bofur finishes for him with a sad little smile, watching as their hobbit shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He could see that she was torn. Torn between her justified fury over their actions towards her after everything she had done for them and the simple desire to simply forgive and forget, as was generally the way of hobbits.

She was saved from her indecision by the most unlikely of distractions. A distraction that Bofur would never have thought of in his wildest dreams in the far and few between moments when he allowed himself to think that their Burglar might just, just be still alive and had returned to her homeland.

"Mama?"

Bilbo's whole body went completely stiff as her eyes widen in horror at the little voice grumbling behind her.

She closed her eyes, swallowed before looking behind her.

"Go back to bed, darling. Mama will be there in a moment." She said in such a soft, soothing, _motherly_ voice that it was hard to belief she had been screaming at them only moments before.

However the little lad, at least Bofur thought the child was a lad – he couldn't see the child as Bilbo was blocking the little one from view with her body – the child was still at the young age where children, boys and girls, more or less sounded the same, seemed to have other ideas.

"Oooo are tey?" the little one asked and suddenly a pair of brilliant sapphire blue orbs were peering at them from around Bilbo's skirt.

"Friends, sweetheart, go back to bed." Bilbo said, her voice close to begging, her face twisted in an expression that clearly read that she wished to be anywhere other than her nice and cosy Hobbit-hole.

"Gandy?" The little lad asked excitedly and tried to push his way around Bilbo, only stopping when Bilbo placed a gentle hand upon his dark, curly head.

"No, not Gandy." Bilbo muttered, not taking her eyes off them, her eyes caution and filled with worry.

"warves." Bilbo sighed at the excited squeal from the child, who struggled even harder to get a better look at them.

"Yes, dwarves. Now if you're very good and go back to bed right now, I'll introduce you in the morning… maybe." Bofur heard her mutter under her breath and it was here that he remembered he could, in fact, speak. Or at least splutter.

"Lass? You-you have a child."

"Yes," Bilbo replied her back stiff once more, "what of it?"

"We didn't know you had a child." Ori gasped looking delighted.

"That's because," Bofur could see she was fighting back a smile even though she still looked nervous and scared, "I didn't have one when I left with you lot almost five years ago."

She was fidgeting nervously, her eyes still darting to her front door, her hand running through the little lad's thick black curls.

Bofur looked at the lad harder, took in his raven curls and brilliant sapphire eyes, so different from his mother's soft golden brown locks and earthy brown eyes. But oh, they were so like a certain Dwarf King who had banished the little lad's mother just over four years ago.

Bofur closed his eyes and groaned, pressing a hand to his brow. Any fool could put two and two together and do the maths.

Damn Thorin! Damn him to deepest pits in Erebor, and further!

He opened his eyes and looked back at the lad, who was watching him with child-like curiosity.

He smiled at him and the lad smiled shyly back before giggling and burying his face into his mother's skirt.

Yes, the lad was most definitely Thorin's child. Anyone who knew Thorin as well as Bofur and his companions did would and could easily see the similarities between them, similarities that only a father and his child could share.

He looked away from the shy child and up into Bilbo's brown eyes, which had grown a little wider and she clutched her child a little closer to her.

"I'm sorry, Lass. So very sorry."

From behind him, Bifur grunted out his agreement while the two younger dwarves simply looked confused and craned their heads to try and catch a glimpse of the boy child; neither had yet made the connection.

"S'not your fault." She replies softly, looking away from them and down at her child, smiling slightly as she stroked his curls.

"What's going on?" Kili asked slowly and carefully, his brown eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Bofur glanced back at Bilbo, wondering if she would try and lie to the young prince about her child as he had not yet made the connection, unlike Ori who let out a small understanding gasp only moments before.

Bilbo sighed heavily before coaxing her child to stand in front of her, his small fist pressed against his mouth as he surveyed them solemnly as they gaped back at him. Bofur who had already made the connections that this was Thorin's child was still thrown by the similarities between them as he stared fully at the child, now no longer hiding behind his mother's skirt and in fully visible for all to see.

"I'm gonna kill him." Were the first words out of Kili's mouth once he was over his stupor. "That Bastard! That complete and utter bastard! I'm gonna…"

"Kili," Bilbo exclaimed as she clapped her hands over her child's young ears, "please…"

The young Dwarf fell silent but he still looked pained.

"Did you… Did he know… when he… did he know?" Kili stuttered, struggling to speak full sentences as he continued to gape at his little cousin.

Bilbo shook her head.

"No. And neither did I, so you can stop right there with trying to blame my exile on this." She growled, hugging her child close to her.

"I wasn't going to." Kili spluttered. "He would never have exiled you if he had known about the little one."

"Oh, well that's reassuring." Bilbo snapped angrily, "would he have kept me until I gave birth to _my_ son and then exiled me? Lovely, always knew that he was a charming fellow…"

"Mama." Bilbo stopped short mid-sentenced and looked down at her child who was looking up at her with a puzzled expression.

"That wasn't what I meant," Kili mumbled look quite deflated and miserable now.

"What his name?" Ori blurted out, trying to break the tension in the hall that was heavy enough to be cut with a knife.

"Ah," Bilbo looked away from her son and looked at them with a slightly pink cheeks and looking a tad embarrassed, before she looked back at her son.

"Sweetheart, why don't you introduce yourself." She encouraged as she ran her fingers once more through his curls.

The little lad hesitated for a moment, looking shyly up at the dwarves.

"Frodo Baggins," he said slowly and carefully, taking great care with his words, "at yor service."

"Pleasure to meet you, Frodo Baggins." Bofur replied with a one of the widest grins he has been able to make since before the Battle of Five Armies as he bowed to the little lad, "Bofur at yours."

"And Ori."

Bifur grunted and bowed.

Kili hesitated for a moment before moving to kneel in front of the little boy, who shifted slightly backwards into his mother's legs.

"Kili son of Dis, nephew of the King under the Mountain, son of the line of Durin, at yours." The young prince said softly to the little lad.

The lad chewed over this for a moment, before smiling.

"E'llo."

"Hello." Kili replied with a small grin. His hands twitched to lift his little cousin into his arms but he wasn't sure how Bilbo would feel about this or about him or about any of them at the moment, but he did reach out and gently flick the little boy's nose causing him to giggle.

Bilbo heaved a small sigh before giving them a tired smile.

"I suppose you're all hungry and would like something to eat?"

The four dwarves started to protest but their growling bellies made their protests weak and caused their burglar to giggle.

"Alright go to the kitchen, you know where it is, while I'll go and settle this one back down." Bilbo giggled as she leant the wicked umbrella up against one of the walls in the hall and lifted her son up into her arms.

"ut Mama, me not tired." Frodo grumbled as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. "I wanna tay ith u and the warves. Peeses?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart. But you'll see them in the morning." Bilbo said as she smiled fondly at her baby, "Say goodnight to the dwarves."

"Nigh nigh." The little boy mumbled, his eyes already drooping close with sleepiness.

"Good night." The dwarves replied as they watched Bilbo walk up the hall while they made their way to the familiar kitchen even though they had only been in it once before.

"I'm still going to kill him." Kili said as they settled themselves down at the table.

"Join the line." Bofur replied and the other two dwarves nodded.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So not quite the tear jerker that I was asked to write from a couple of readers but I figured the tears would come later, right at the moment Bilbo would simply be too shocked to start crying and then too angry. Next chapter we're back reading her POV, which is basically this chapter from her POV with a bit more to it.  
Thanks for reading.


	7. An Unexpected Arrival on One's Doorstep

**Author's Note:** So here is Chapter Seven, An Unexpected Arrival on One's Doorstep, which is basically chapter six from Bilbo's POV, with a few things added and so on.  
You have no idea how how much I've been laughing reading your reviews, I think almost all of you who reviewed chapter six all want to get in line for exucuting operations Thorin Oakenshield must die. It cracks me up, lol.  
Anyway, wow, I've never had so many reviews, favourites and follows over such a short amount of time, over a fic still reasonably small, it's amazing. Thank you so much for all your support.  
Ok, enough from me, please enjoy chapter seven.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**An Unexpected Arrival on One's Doorstep**

Bilbo was lonely. Her little one was already tucked into bed and her father had retired to his room for the night with a good book – though she was certain that he had only managed to read a page before sleep overcame him.

She should be used to being on her own by now – it was how she had spent much of her time once her father had fallen ill with his mind-sickness – but since coming back from the quest to reclaim a mountain and being stuck with thirteen dwarves almost constantly, she has discovered that she no longer copes as well with being alone as she once had.

She keeps catching herself thinking of them whenever she is alone for more than an hour, wondering what they are doing, how they are, who is annoying who and so on. It makes her sad and causes for her loneliness to grow even worse, to the point where it almost physically hurting her.

She wished she could stop it, stop feeling this way, stop the loneliness and the longing for loud and rude company to invade her life once more.

She used to be quite comfortable being all by herself almost constantly, day in day out but now? Now she longs for loudness, for songs of times and places that aren't mention in Hobbit history and so seem so mystical to her. She longs for the company of those who made her feel that she belonged with them even though she was of a completely different race to them.

_But you didn't belong with them. You didn't when you first joined their quest and you certainly didn't when you were banished from their side forever. They exiled you, remember. They cared more about their stupid, useless gold than they did about you or their own lives. Forget them and move on, you will never see them again._

And despite herself, Bilbo blinked back tears as she washed the dishes from dinner.

She had already been feeling fairly emotional already and now she's gone and made herself feel all the worse by thinking about _them_!

She really needed to convince her father that answering their front door wasn't such a good idea as it generally resulted with an unpleasant visit it from the Sackville-Baggins.

Bilbo knew it was not healthy or very gracious to think ill of one's own family, but dammit, those wretched people certainly knew how to push her buttons.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Silly to get so upset over meaningless words, not when she had had far worse spoken to her – words that she hears him speak over and over again in her more terrible of nightmares – by far more significant people in her life than Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, but still Lobelia's words had stung her, just as the wretch woman had hoped they would.

Usually Bilbo couldn't care less what people said or thought about her, she was used to the whispers and pitying looks people had sent her way even before she went on her mad adventure. It came with being a girl child who had lost her mother far, far too early in life and was raised by a father who hadn't really a clue of what he was doing – but he had done the very best that he could do, something Bilbo knew and loved him dearly for – and had quickly fallen prey to the incurable and utterly cruel mind-sickness, a disease that could appear suddenly or could creep up on you, little by little, over the years, eating away the memories of one's life. Sometimes slowly, other times quickly, causing its unlucky victim to forget all that they once loved, including those who had been most important and beloved to them.

No, Bilbo didn't care what people said about her, least of all the Sackville-Baggins, they could say what they wanted for all she cared.

No, what Bilbo did care about and with all her heart, was what people said about her family, her family of two, her father and her son.

Her mentally ill father who fell in and out of the coherent thoughts, laughing and chattering happily away to her and her son one moment, like he had done when she had still been a wee lass and her mother was still with them. And the next he was staring mindlessly at the wall opposite him, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything for hours on end.

And her son.

Her strange and beautiful little son that people would look at and wonder. Wonder who his father was, if he was some strange hobbit from Bree or the results of a one night fling with either a Took or Brandybuck – the whispers could never decide which, it was constantly changing between her lad's father being a Took or a Brandybuck. Both families were known to be a little wild and were rumoured to have relations before and sometimes outside of the marriage bed, so it was possible that Billanna Baggins had conceived her lad during a mindless moment of passion when visiting either family as she had been known to do in her youth before she came to her senses and returned to Hobbiton to live among proper and sensible hobbits again. But she could have done the honourable thing and married the fellow who had caused her to be with child. But maybe the reason she hadn't was because she didn't know _who_ the child's father actually was!

This rumour, Bilbo remembered had caused a particular stir in the Shire for a good number of weeks.

She was thankful her cousins and friends in both the Took and Brandybucks families had more sense than to take these nasty rumours seriously. In fact it had become something of a joke over in both Buckland and Tuckborough and whenever Bilbo visited either family, her little lad was treated like one their own.

No, it was the other rumours, the dark ones that prickled Bilbo's skin and made her heart ache. The ones about her dwarves.

No one in the Shire knew her fully story, the story of why she had really run out her door that day, the day of her wedding, chasing after an adventure that had, really, caused her nothing but misery. They all thought they knew the reasons but they really didn't and they never would. But they made themselves feel important by thinking that they did and so, they whispered.

Most hobbits in Hobbiton and in other parts of the Shire had seen the Dwarves when they had been coming into the Hobbiton to meet with her and when they were leaving it again and so drew their own conclusions. Most were harmless, some… were not.

Those that were not were usually directed around the origin of her son and they made her feel sick to her gut whenever she heard them.

Hobbits may be considered a gentle race for their lack of weapons and warfare, but then those who thought this had never come under the fire of their cruel and vindictive tongues.

Bilbo, at times, found herself wishing that hobbits were more violent for then, if she punched someone or threaten them with Sting, it wouldn't be considered strange and she would be left alone. But no, if she did that, she would only be left alone for a few days, at best, before it would start up again, worse than ever. It was simply best to ignore the looks and the whispers and hope that those who spoke them would grow tired and bored and move on. Only some, like the Sackville-Baggins, didn't.

They just couldn't leave it well enough alone and move on. They seemed to enjoy hurting her with their cruel, hurtful words and Bilbo feared for the time when her child would understand what was being spoken. She didn't want him to think such things about the father he did not know, but how could she spare him from the pain of the whispers and rumours when the truth would only hurt him more?

The truth might even cause her darling son to hate his father all the more and as much as she still hurt over what had occurred between her and the sire of her child, she didn't want her child to hate him, not before he even had a chance to know him.

She rubbed her eyes again.

Why, oh why hadn't she just slipped her magic ring on the moment her father had opened the front door? She could have saved herself a great deal of pain and sorrow that she was currently feeling.

_It doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter, you shouldn't care what Lobelia and the rest think. You have a father and a son who love you with all their hearts, along with a large extended family who adores you. There is no reason to care what others think of you here in Hobbiton._

She nodded her head firmly.

Yes that was absolutely true, so she should stop right this moment with feeling sorry for herself. It would not help and would only make her weaker to further talk and unpleasant visits.

With this in mind, she dusted her skirt as if to dust off all the negative emotions she had been feelings all afternoon and evening and went and settled herself by the fire in her living room with a good book.

She had only read a couple of pages when she heard a soft but persisted knock on her front door.

She looked up from her book and over towards her front door in surprise and with a touch of apprehension. It wouldn't be Lobelia again… would it?

The persisted knocking continued and Bilbo's already frail nerves flared into anger, which she figured was her best approach to this late night intrusion and it might scare off Lobelia and whoever it was she had managed to drag along to accompany her at this late hour.

"Lobelia, for the last time, I am not marrying your son! I don't care if I'm a disgrace to the family and that people are talking. They can talk all they like for all I care but I will not… No, I refuse to marry…" Bilbo snapped as she marched sharply to her front door, her hand firmly grasping the brass knob and threw open her door, hoping to scare whoever it was still insisting to knock on her door even though she had already made herself known to be at home.

Damn Sackville-Baggins!

"Him…" her voice trailed off weakly as her door fell completely open and revealed exactly who was knocking at this unreasonable late hour. She would almost take Lobelia in preference to those standing on her door step, staring back at her with mixed expressions.

They were alive!

She knew as much from Gandalf of course, but hearing that they were alive was very, _very _different to seeing for herself that they were indeed still walking and breathing in the land of the living!

It took all her strength not to throw herself a dear ol'Bofur who was staring at her with such a look of happiness and relief that she almost broke down crying all over again.

She had just been thinking of them and now, here they were!

Logic however quickly overruled her feelings of joy and she started to panic, her hand blindly reaching for the big heavy umbrella that stood tall in the umbrella stand behind the door.

_If they're here_, she thought desperately, her heart racing with terror, _than they must somehow have heard about Frodo and_… The thought made a little scream of terror spring from her lips.

With the quickness and strength that she had been taught by the very dwarves standing in front of her, she smacked the umbrella over their heads before trying to slam the door in their yelping faces.

Only she couldn't.

"Bofur," She cried in dismay when she saw a huge dwarven boot sticking itself between the doorframe and her door – she guessed it was Bofur's foot as he had been the closest – stopping her from closing her door and locking it up tight, "get you great, big foot out of the way!"

"No," came his simple reply and the next thing Bilbo knew she, and her door, were being shoved backwards, causing her to hop awkwardly down her front hall, trying to use the umbrella to regain her balance.

Once she had, nothing could hold back her pent up years of anger.

"DIDN'T YOUR MOTHERS EVER TELL YOU THAT IT'S RUDE TO ENTER A HOME UNINVITED!?" It had been a long, _long_ time since she had last screamed at anyone and it felt surprisingly refreshing even if a tiny part of her felt terrible when she saw both Bofur and Ori looking quite hurt.

She opened her mouth to start screaming some more when she was suddenly being pulled into a tight hug. Bifur?

A part of her wanted to squirm out of the mentally damaged dwarf's embrace but he was so gentle and his small grunts of relief and delight made her heart feel warm and loved. A rather strange twist to how she had first felt when she had been meeting the dwarf for the first time and she had been terrified of him.

Terrified of his strange and eccentric movements, of the strange tongue he spoke in that only a select few – including Gandalf – understood, and of course, the bit of metal – she later found out it was the end of an orc's axe – that was lodged in his skull.

Everything about this strange dwarf had terrified her once, just as Dwalin's gruff, imposing manner had and Thorin's… well, almost everything about Thorin had terrified her at first, but over time, surprisingly quickly actually, she had grown to be quite close to the damaged dwarf and had made a point to try and learn as much ancient Khuzdul as she possibly could so as to be able to converse with him.

So despite her terror and panic as to why several members of her old company were now standing in her front hall, she found herself relaxing into his embrace.

"What-What are you all doing here?" She squeaked once Bifur had released her and had moved back to stand with his cousin and the other two dwarves. She couldn't help but keep glancing out her still open front door, waiting for more dwarves to come stomping in.

Oh, and what if _he_ had come too!

"It's just us." Ori said smiling at her hopefully. He really hadn't changed one bit since she had last seen him. He still looked as sweet and innocent as ever, dressed in the knitted clothing that he had made himself. She had been terrified that he might have harden, his innocence and gentle nature destroyed with the Battle of Five Armies.

She looked to his writing arm which she had seen being injured during the great battle, but it appeared to have healed well and seemed to be causing him no problem.

A bit of the great weight that she carried on her small shoulders lifted.

She forces herself to swallow down some of her fear and her continuous desire to keep glancing out her front door and turns her eyes fully on to them.

Taking a deep breath, she repeated her previous question.

"What are you four doing here?"

She hadn't meant for herself to sound so cold and apathetic, but she was still reeling from the shock of them being here and possibly being here, not on his orders but rather…

"Visiting?" Ori offers her with a weak smile. He looks almost… frighten of her? She knew it was silly, but this thought actually amused her and she had a hard time fighting back a smile. Ori was hardly the biggest dwarf in their old company, Dwalin took that honour, but the lad was still quite a bit bigger than her, both in height and weight, so for him to be scared of her was quite… hysterical.

She would have probably broken down into a fit of hysterical giggles if weren't for Kili. Dear Kili, so full of life and fire, was now burning with all the glory of dragon's fire as he advanced on her.

"We thought you were _DEAD_!" His voice echoed around her front hall and made her heart thump madly in her chest. He looked so like his uncle did, when her deception was brought to light and she knew she had lost his love forever.

It took all her strength of will to not run from such fury again.

_I am either very brave or a complete fool. Fool of a Took!_ She thinks dully, her heart breaking all over again.

"We thought you were killed in the battle! We mourned for you, are _still_ mourning for you and all this time you were here, safe and sound with not even a word sent back to us to tell us any different!"

"Of course I didn't!" Bilbo felt all the years of pain and anger swell within her body. How dare he! How _dare_ he!

"How dare you! How dare you make this my fault when it was you lot who kicked me out! I didn't think you wanted to know I was alive! I thought you would be happy to think I was killed by some Orc or Warg during the battle! Your Kingly Uncle said as much, so don't you dare make this all my fault!" Her voice was close to screaming again and her eyes were sting with unshed tears.

"We weren't!" Kili cried back, his own dark eyes were filling with tears too, "we weren't! We looked for you, once Gandalf came to us telling us you were missing, we looked for you! We found your coat, shredded and bloody, and thought you were…" he swallowed thickly, "and thought you were…"

"Dead." Bofur finished him quietly, giving her a sad little smile, so unlike his usual cheery and optimistic grins that he was so well known for. She felt her dinner in her belly do a little flip as she looked back at his ruined face, with its terrible scar slashing right across it, a large chunk of flesh missing from his nose.

But even with this terrible disfiguring scar, he was still good ol' Bofur, with his optimistic and safe air about him and his silly fur hat that deep inside of her she still had an itch to steal from his head like she had during their quest.

It would be so easy to forgive them, to simply forgive and forget what happen during that awful moment that still makes her cry whenever she allows herself to think about it.

She opens her mouth to say… something, but whatever it was she had planned to say, she promptly forgotten at the sound of the most important creature in her life speaking behind her.

"Mama?"

Her whole body went stiff with terror.

Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no.

_Calm yourself Bilbo, stay calm. There is no reason that they'll make the connection, none at all, just stay calm._

She swallowed thickly before looking behind her, forcing herself to smile at her darling boy, who was walking slowly towards her, dressed for bed and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Go back to bed, darling. Mama will be there in a moment." She said to him, hoping, praying that he will listen to her for once. But of course, she had given birth to an adventurous, sticky-beak of lad and he had heard unfamiliar voice which had of course peaked his interest and curiosity even though it was well past his bedtime and he knew, even at his young age, that staying up late, meant that he would be cranky in the morning because he was tired.

He blinked at her with his brilliant blue eyes, now wide awake as he tottered over to her, questioning as he came.

"Oooo are tey?"

"Friends, sweetheart, go back to bed." Bilbo begged her baby, who was now clutching hold of her blue skirt and trying to peer around her to see the strangers standing in their front hall.

"Gandy?" He asked excitedly and tried to push his way around her legs, only stopping when she laid a hand upon his head of dark curls.

"No, not Gandy." Bilbo muttered, her eyes now focused on the dwarves in front of her, nervously gauging their expressions, which at the moment seem to only read confused surprised.

"Warves." Bilbo sighed at the excited squeal of her child, who was now desperately struggling to get a better looks at the dwarves in their front hall.

"Yes, dwarves. Now if you're very good and go back to bed right now, I'll introduce you in the morning… maybe." Bilbo added the last bit under her breath for a part of her still hoped to be able to convince the four dwarves in her front hall to leave. But that being said she remembered all too well the stubbornness of dwarves and knew that there was very little hope of getting the four to leave without giving them something of equal value in return.

"Lass," She heard Bofur splutter, his brown eyes wide with shock, "You-you have a child." It wasn't a question but she answered it as if it were one.

"Yes," she felt her back stiffening in defence – not them too, surely, "what of it?"

She refused to put up with any kind of misery from them about having a child out of wedlock. She absolutely refused.

"We didn't know you had a child." Ori gasped his eyes wide with absolute delight that made Bilbo momentarily forget that she was in a rather complicated and almost dangerous situation and she found herself fighting back an amused grin.

"That's because I didn't have one when I left with you lot almost five years ago." Which was of course true, she hadn't had a child when she left with them on their mad adventure. No instead she had returned home with a babe growing within her belly.

With this thought, she started to fidget again, guessing that surely one of them would make the connections now and know exactly who her child's father was.

She wondered how much time she would have, when one of them did finally make the connection, to escape before they shook themselves of their shock and came after her.

Not very long, she guessed, especially not once Kili saw the connection; she would have no chance of escaping with her baby from him.

She felt tears once more prick in her eyes. She was going to lose her baby!

Whatever friendship the four might still feel towards her would be gone the moment they realised whose child she had birthed. They would take him from her, no matter how much she might plead with them not to.

She heard a groan and saw that Bofur now had his hand pressed to his brow.

He knew, he had finally seen it. He knew.

She watched in agony as he looked down at her son who was peering around her legs, biting hard upon her bottom lip as she saw him smile at her baby and listen to her little one's giggle before he buried his face within her skirt folds.

She clutched her baby closer to her as his eyes lifted to meet hers.

_Please. Please, please, please._

"I'm sorry, Lass. So very sorry."

_Then don't take my son from me, please! I beg of you, don't take him! He's all I have_, she begged silently with her eyes.

She heard Bifur give a small grunt and saw that he too had seen the connection and was looking quite upset while the two younger dwarves simply looked confused as they tried to get a glimpse of her baby.

"S'not your fault." She mumbled as she looked away from them and down at her child who was looking up at her with his beautiful eyes and lopsided grin.

She stroked his beautiful raven locks lovingly, fearing that this might be her last chance to do so.

"What's going on?" She heard Kili ask, could hear the suspicion in his voice and wondered if she could somehow get Bifur to restrain him for a moment or two while she made a bolt for it.

Out of all them, the youngest – no second youngest she reminded herself wincing – of Durin's line would be the most likely to take action against her for this latest in her already impressive list of betrayals against them.

He would be the one out of the four of them who would take her child from her and return him to his uncle, her baby's father. How could he do anything but that?

Not only was Thorin his king, but also his blood, family. Kili would never betray his family with keeping Frodo a secret simply because she begged him to.

It was over, it was all over. Kili might as well run her through with one of his arrows now to save her from the pain and agony that taking her son away from her will cause.

She heard Ori give a gasp of understanding and her last instincts of fight or flight died and her shoulders slumped.

Sighing heavily and fighting back bitter tears, she coaxed her child to stand in front her, her heart breaking as she watched him do so, his little fist pressed against his mouth as he surveyed the dwarves in front of them solemnly as they gaped back at him.

At another time Bilbo would have probably found their expressions to have been amusing but now, now she was simply consumed with a sense of bitterness and defeat, her hand itching to have her little blade Sting in it instead of the useless umbrella that she still held.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Bilbo jumped and stared at Kili in disbelief at the venom in his words. "That Bastard! That complete and utter bastard! I'm gonna…"

"Kili," she cried out in shocked to hear the lad, who had once idolised his uncle, speak such harsh words out against his uncle with such venom as she clapped her hands over her baby's young ears. When? How had this happened?

"Please," she added trying to calm the lad down for he looked close to breaking something. The lad fell silent but he was now looking at her and her baby with a pained expression.

"Did you… Did he know… when he… did he know?" Kili stuttered, struggling to speak full coherent sentences as he continued to gape at his little bastard cousin.

Bilbo shook her head quickly, not wanting the lad to explode over his uncle once more.

"No. And neither did I, so you can stop right there with trying to blame my exile on this." She hadn't meant to growl, but her desire to protect her child was burning strongly within her heart.

"I wasn't going to." Kili spluttered. He looked so confused and torn that Bilbo almost, almost felt sorry for him, if it weren't for the next words out of his mouth. "He wouldn't have exiled you if he had known about the little one."

"Oh," she sneered, "well that's reassuring."She snapped back at him furiously, "would he have kept me until I gave birth to _my_ son and then exiled me? Lovely, always knew that he was a charming fellow…"

"Mama?" her child's voice broke through her rant and she felt anger melt as she looked down at him and his puzzled expression

She didn't look away from her son when she heard Kili mumbled that that hadn't been what he had meant, but she knew that if she looked at him now, she would feel inclined to forgive and she wasn't quite ready to forgive him just yet, not with the threat of him still stealing away her baby still hung heavily over her head.

"What his name?" Ori asked and she had to fight back a smile. Dear Ori, he always hated tension within the company, even more so than Bofur and Bombur, and was always trying to find ways to ease it, even though usually he was terrified to go anywhere near the ones who were usually causing the tension, say ah… His King, for example.

Still his question did pose a few… issues. Her child's name was hardly what one would consider a proper dwarrow name and certainly not one that would be given to a child of a king, even if said child was indeed the bastard child of said king.

"Sweetheart," Frodo twisted his head to look up at her, "why don't you introduce yourself." She ran her fingers through her lad's hair encouragingly.

She felt him press against her legs shyly for a moment before saying in careful and precise words, just as she had taught him.

"Frodo Baggins, at yor serfice."

"Pleasure to meet you Frodo Baggins." Bofur replied with a grin that she well remembered as he bowed, "Bofur at yours."

"And Ori." Ori beamed as he too bowed.

Bifur let out a grunt as he smiled and bowed to the little lad.

Bilbo looked hesitantly towards Kili who had fallen silent, his eyes focused on her boy. She swallowed nervously as he came to kneel in front of her son, her nervousness only growing when her lad pressed himself once more against her legs.

"Kili son of Dis, nephew of the King under the Mountain, son of the line of Durin, at yours." The young prince said softly to the little lad.

Bilbo felt her lips twitch into a small smile when she heard her son's small "E'llo."

"Hello." Kili replied with a small smile, reaching out and gently flicked Frodo's nose causing him to giggle.

Bilbo heaved a small, relieved sigh before giving her four old friends a small and tired smile.

"I suppose you're all hungry and would like something to eat?"

She giggled as she listen to them protest against her offer for food only for their bellies to start growling out in hunger at the mention of food.

"Alright go to the kitchen, you know where it is, while I'll go and settle this one back down." She giggled as she leant her wicked umbrella up against wall of the hall and carefully lifted her son into her arms. Still just a baby and he was already getting too heavy for her.

"ut Mama, me not tired." Frodo grumbled as he rubbed his eyes sleepily and already laying his head down upon her shoulder. "I wanna tay ith u and the warves. Peeses?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart. But you'll see them in the morning." She reassured him with a fond smile, "say goodnight to the dwarves."

"Nigh nigh." Her baby mumbled, his face pressing against her neck, yawning widely.

Bilbo smiled as the four dwarves wished him good night before she walked carefully back up the hall for his bedroom, to tuck him back into bed.

She gently tucked him into his cot, pulling up the handmade quilt she had made for him in the final months of her pregnancy, decorated with the more cheerful moments of her journey to the Lonely Mountain, up and around him, smiling when her son reached blindly out for his soft bear toy, cuddling it closely to his chest and sighing contently.

She gently brushed a few stray dark curls from his forehead before she leant down and kissed him goodnight.

"Sleep well, my darling boy."

She shut his bedroom door until it was open just a crack before heading off in the direction of her kitchen to deal with four impatient, hungry dwarves.

She didn't even bother trying to fight back the grin that was playing on her lips as she entered her kitchen.


	8. A Hearty Conversation

**Author's Note:** Hi everyone. Here's chapter eight: A Hearty Conversation.  
I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**A Hearty Conversation**

When Bilbo walked into her kitchen, she wasn't overly surprised to see what her guests had gotten up to while she had been tucking her son back into bed. They were all helping themselves to whatever food she had left on the kitchen shelves or the table.

She also wasn't surprise to see them eating as if they had never seen food before. It had been a common sight whenever they had decent food in front of them. Well, besides the time in Rivendell but that was their loss.

"Would you like me to cook you up something?" She asked, shaking her head and trying not to laugh. She failed with the pitiful look they all gave her, so still chuckling she went to her well stocked pantry and pulled out all the ingredients she would need for a quick but hearty soup which she placed into a basket for her to carry everything with ease, along with throwing in a few bits and pieces that would tide the hungry dwarves over until the soup had finished cooking.

"You're lucky I wanted to make a soup tomorrow," she announced as she walked back into the kitchen with her basket full of food, "everything is already cut up and ready to go in."

She placed the basket onto the table and started unloading it, chucking various articles of food at the dwarves to eat while she cooked.

It made her happy, cooking for a group again. Even if this one was quite a bit smaller than the one she had once cooked for.

That is, of course, until Kili opened his mouth and started asking the awkward questions she had known were coming, but had hoped the lad would have the patience to wait til morning to ask them.

"Why didn't you come back after the battle?" was the first question he asked, which she supposed considering all the other questions he could have asked first, this was one of the least painful questions to ask. She finished filling up her soup pot with water to boil over the small fire before turning around to answer his question.

"Hit my head and fell into a ditch," She started simply, unconsciously lifting a hand to the nasty scar that cut across her brow. "And when I came to, the battle was over, and the side of the ditch I just so happened to crawl out of was the side facing Laketown. It wasn't on purpose that I didn't come back, my mind was simply too blurred to know where "back" actually was. It wasn't until I reached the edge of Mirkwood – and started to wondered how I was going to get through it again – I released how far I had come. I was thinking of coming back, but Gandalf and Beorn had caught up to me by this point and they were all for returning me home."

"And the baby?" Bilbo sighed heavily.

"I found out about the baby when we reached Beorn's home. I was terribly ill and," she started to blush now with embarrassment, "Beorn had to carry me the last few miles because I was too weak and ill to walk but couldn't bear to be on Gandalf's grand horse. It was Beorn who informed me of my condition." She hung her head in remembrance of that awkward and embarrassing conversation. Of course, it wasn't for Beorn. He just stated that she had a babe growing inside of her and needed to take better care of herself before walking off to patrol his lands, leaving her to splutter and gap after him while Gandalf muttered darkly about the integrity and stupidity of dwarves.

"So who else knows about the baby? Besides obviously, your family and friends…" Kili started only for Bilbo to interrupt him with a snort.

"And just about everyone else in the Shire! Word gets around here fairly fast, Kili." She sighed, "Especially about a child born out of wedlock without a father in sight."

She watched her old friends wince but she didn't give them time to say anything – what could they say? Really. Nothing, nothing at all. – before resuming answering Kili's question. "Besides from everyone in the Shire? Beorn and Gandalf, obviously, some goblins but I doubt they'll be telling anybody, not unless they've learnt to talk without bodies attached to their heads, ah," She felt her cheeks heat up again, this time from nervousness for the next person she was going to list was sure to annoy at least one member of the group present, "Lord Elrond. He checked on the baby's progress, making sure he was growing well and so on." She said quickly, not in the mood to defend her elven friend from prejudice dwarves. However she didn't get the protests or growls of anger she would have gotten if other members of the company were present and Bilbo felt a swell of relief and fondness for the dwarves who were sitting at her kitchen table.

"Anyone else?" Bofur asked gently.

Bilbo shook her head.

"Not that I know of. I mean, there were elves in Rivendell who saw me and would have guessed my condition but only Gandalf, Lord Elrond and Beorn know who the fa…" She trailed off softly, staring intently down at her hands as she started to add ingredients to her soup. How can it still hurt, even now?

"Why didn't you send word back to us? You must know with time, Thorin would..."

"Thorin would have what?" Bilbo snapped, rounding on poor Ori who shrank in his seat, "forgiven me? If it weren't for _me_, we'd all be long dead from starvation, locked inside that damn mountain, all because our leader was too stubborn or greedy or whatever it was that made him no longer able to see sense and pay compensation for the damages our, _our_ actions caused! If he had just let me give Bard and the rest my share of the treasure, I never would have taken the damn stone as a peace offering to begin with. It was all his fault!" She knew she was being very childish, but she was so sick and tired of hearing how everything that had happened to her in recent years was entirely her fault, she felt justified to blame a great chunk of her current mess on the damn King under the Mountain!

The four dwarves looked at her, their expression varying from surprise, fear in Ori's case and Bofur, Bofur...

The dwarf was laughing, laughing!? His deep belly laugh with his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"What is so funny?" Bilbo demanded her cheek feeling hot for she truly hated being laughed at, especially when she was being laughed at over something she felt so strongly about.

"Oh lass," he chuckled, wiping his eyes with his hand, "Forgive me; I wasn't laughing at you, as much at the truth you speak."

"So," Bilbo started cautiously, "you agree with me then?"

"Always did," Bofur replied solemnly, his laughter now forgot, "just didn't get a chance to say as much."

"Yes, it did all happen rather quickly, didn't it?" Bilbo said cringing as she remembered her great moment of disgrace, her heart throbbing painfully.

"I wasn't – I'm not trying to keep him a secret to be deceitful or vindictive to – towards Thorin, I – I just wanted to come home. And I thought it would be best to allow him time to cool down. And now…" she looked around her cosy kitchen, "how am I supposed to tell him now that he has a son?" she looked back at the four dwarves.

"We could…" Ori started before Kili cut him off.

"No, we won't." the young dwarf prince said, shaking his head.

"You won't, what?" Bilbo asked confused. She had been certain Kili, out of all of them, would be the one wishing to tell his Uncle of his son the most, despite their obvious problems.

"Tell Thorin. He can come here and find out for himself." Kili said crossing his arms ignoring the horrified look Bilbo was giving him along with the annoyed looks from his fellow dwarves.

"He's coming here?!" Bilbo squeaked in horror.

"What? No, of course not." Kili replied quickly, "No, but if we told him, he would… actually, he'd probably send a scout to see if what we spoke was in fact, true, and then he would send an envoy, but himself? Hardly! Our esteemed king rarely ever leaves his mountain." Kili sneered.

Bilbo felt a little torn by this, relieved that the chances of Thorin coming to the Shire were close to nil, even if the four dwarves did tell him he had a son from her and fury that he wouldn't come for himself to see if he indeed had a son.

"You won't tell him?" Bilbo asked locking eyes with Kili while the other three hesitated. He met her gaze without hesitation or doubt.

"No, not a word." The dwarf prince replied, and Bilbo was torn between the desire to hug him and slap him for his lack of family loyalty. Honestly, when had this happened? The lad adored his uncle only a few years ago. What had caused this change?

She bit down on the inside of her mouth. Please don't let it be because of her. Please…

"Are you going to keep the little one a secret from Thorin forever?" Ori asked softly, "I know what Thorin did…" He trailed off at the looks the others in the room were shooting him, "I mean, not that Thorin doesn't deserve not knowing," the dwarf lad hurried on, "but it's not fair on the little one. All children should have the right to know who sired them, shouldn't they?"

Bilbo sighed, for of the scholar lad was right.

"I never planned on keeping Frodo's parentage a secret from him," she took a deep breath and steeled herself as she continued, "or Thorin. I just, I want to have him as my baby for as long as I possibly can before he inevitably gets ripped from me."

"Bilbo…" Bofur started to speak, but Bilbo held up her hand to silence him.

"My plan is to tell Frodo of his parentage on his thirty-third birthday – thirty-three that is when a hobbits comes of age – and I will give him a letter that if he wishes, he can take to the Lonely Mountain and to Thorin, explaining everything. Gandalf has agreed with this and has even offered to go with Frodo when the time comes." She swallowed nervous as she looked at the dwarves who were all sitting back and thinking deeply over what she had said.

"Does – does that sound reasonable?" she asked softly.

"Reasonable? More than Thorin deserves." Kili snorted, "But reasonable for the lad?" he sighed, "it's hard growing up without a father, or mother." He nodded at Bilbo. "So, I suppose it's a fair enough plan."

"Do you want to write up a contract, Ori?" Bilbo asked the young scribe, "and…"

"I don't think you need to do that, lass." Bofur's face was pained as he interrupted her, "we trust you."

"But it will keep her safe," Ori said, fumbling with his satchel, "if anyone else from Ered Luin or Erebor were to find out about the little one and discovered whose child he is, a contract stating her plans for him would save her from…"

"A great deal of unpleasantness from temperamental dwarves?" Bilbo asked dryly, and Ori nodded sheepishly as he pulled out a notebook, a quill and a small pot of ink.

"Who else would come this far into the Shire to find out about the little lad?" Kili asked, clearly thinking the whole idea was stupid.

"You did, Kili." Bofur pointed out before Bilbo could speak, "on the mere whim of another."

"And as I said before," Bilbo added, "word spreads fast around the Shire. If anyone, say Dwalin," she swallowed thickly as she thought of Thorin huge right hand dwarf, "were to ask the right questions to the right hobbits, he would quickly discover that I had come back from our quest, heavily pregnant, birthing a child out of wedlock. It wouldn't be too hard for him to connection the dots. He wouldn't stop to ask any questions of me, he would take Frodo, and this contract might be the only thing that saves me from losing my child forever."

"He wouldn't…" Ori started before sighing and shaking his head.

"That's what you've been living in fear of for all these years?" Bofur asked softly, "one of us or all of us finding out about the little one and coming and taking him from you?"

Bilbo didn't look up from her soup as she nodded her head slowly.

"We won't." Ori promises, his head bouncing up and down on his neck causing Bilbo to giggle softly.

"Thank you." She whispered weakly as she moved to grab down some bowls from the shelf so she could start serving the dwarves.

"Have you been given a hard time with, you know, your little one…"

"Being born out of wedlock?" Bilbo finished for the unusually sombre Bofur. "Ah, no more than usual I suppose. I have family members pressuring me to marry so the family can save face."

"Yes we heard," Bofur replied trying not to look too amused while Bilbo turned pink as she remembered what she had been snapping before she had opened her front door and saw it was them standing behind it and not her cousin-in-law.

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that. My cousin's wife came around this afternoon, badgering me to marry her son so they can finally get their slippery hands on my home, saying I've disgraced the family and that people are talking and all that nonsense. I'm quite fed up with the woman, but if I do give into my desire to sock her one in the eye, people really _will_ talk." She sighed while the dwarves chuckled as they gratefully took the bowls of soup she offered them. Even though it hadn't stewed for very long at all, the soup still tasted to them like the near damn best thing any of them had eaten in all their lives.

"But I'm not going to. I didn't want to marry before I went on that damn, mad quest of ours – that was why I went on it to begin with, you know, so I would get out of getting married – and I have no desire to marry now that I'm back from it, especially not to Otho Sackville-Baggins of all people!"

She blushed at the amused looks she was receiving from her friends at her rant.

"Well, it's true." She muttered in embarrassment as she started to dish out her soup into bowls, "you know it is, I told you all as much during the quest."

"No one should be able to force you into marrying anyone you don't love, lass." Bofur patted her hand, though a part of him wondered if she would still have felt this way if a certain dwarf had asked her to marry him before everything went horribly wrong.

"Too right they can't!" Kili agreed, smacking his fist against the kitchen table, "show me who is trying to force you into marriage and I'll make 'em wish they had never learnt the word."

"Yeah!" Ori agreed as he smacked his own fist against the table as well; almost upsetting his bowl of soup.

Bilbo giggled at their enthusiasm.

"I'll definitely keep that in mind the next time Lobelia comes calling." She chuckled as she got some soup for herself, pulling a face at the lack of flavour in it for the lack of proper stewing time; though she still smiled as she watched the dwarves wolf it down with gusto.

Even though the dwarves still had more questions to ask of their hobbit, they instead informed her of what had been happening with them for the past couple of years, how the rebuild of Erebor, Dale and Laketown were fairing since the death of Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies. They spoke fondly of their company, of the jobs and tasks they now do for Erebor and Thorin.

"Bifur and I have a workshop, making all the toys we have ever wished to make." Bofur informed her proudly, "And Bombur has been made head cook."

"Only problem is he eats all his cooking before it even leaves the kitchen, so we never get to taste it." Kili stage whispered to her causing her to laugh as Bofur lightly smacked the prince of his head.

"He doesn't eat _all _his cooking." Bofur chided the prince.

"Just most of it?" Bilbo chuckled as Bofur sighed in defeat while the others roared with laughter. They quickly checked themselves when Bilbo motion for them to keep it down, she did after all have a young child and old father trying to sleep and would be cranky in the morning if they didn't get a good night's rest.

Speaking of sleep, Bilbo pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. She was quite tired after all the excitement this night had brought.

"Time for bed?" Bofur teased, and Bilbo stuck her tongue out at him tiredly. It had always been something of joke for the dwarves about how early Bilbo would take herself off to her bed roll. They seemingly forgot their own exhaustion from a day of hard riding or walking once they were sitting around a fire and had some food in their belly.

"Yes, yes it is, unless you four feel like chasing an excitable, adventurous, sticky-beak toddler all-around tomorrow by yourself while his mama sleeps."

Instead of looking horrified by the suggestion, the four dwarves grinned at her in delight, nodding their heads eagerly. Bilbo groaned.

"I'm going to regret opening my front door tonight, aren't I?" She sighed as the four dwarves grinned innocently back at her.

"Yes, I thought as much. Come on, I'll show you where you can sleep. Leave your bowls where they are, I'll wash them in the morning." She gestured for the four dwarves to follow her out of the kitchen and down the hall towards her multiple spare guest bedrooms near the back of her hobbit-hole.

"Sleep well." She said and after a moments more hesitation, she gave into the desire she had been fighting since the moment she saw the four of them standing on her door step. She hugged them, expressing without the need of words how much she had missed them all and how glad she was to have them here.

"Good night." The four dwarves beamed at her and returned the sentiment with a bow before she left them to retreat to her own bedroom.

She changed into her night clothes with fumbling movements and collapsed gratefully upon her bed, falling into a deep sleep in seconds.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Good news everyone 'pauses as Author realises she's been watching way too much Futurama and is now thinking of all Professor Farnsworth _Good new everyone_...quotes'  
Anyway, No, I'm not about send this fic on a sucide mission, nope. Instead the good news, really is good news as this Fic has a Beta. BayWeather was kind enough to offer her services for this fic - of which I a very deeply grateful for. I'm dyslexic, so while I'm getting better at proof-reading my writing and seeing the mistakes I've made, I still need to do a bit more work so it's nice to have an extra pair of eyes to look over chapters for me. So thank you very much BayWeather.  
So yeah, that's the good news.  
Hope you enjoyed this chapter and you will hear from me soon.  
Bye for now


	9. A Father's Input

**Author's Note:** Hi everyone. Early Happy Easter! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it. It's from a completely different POV to any other chapter I've so far written so I hope you all like it.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**A Father's Input**

Bungo Baggins woke to what sounded like every pot and pan in his hobbit-hole being clanged together repeatedly. He thought for a moment it might be his little grandson, who had quite a knack at getting his hands upon pots and pans and a liking to bang them together. But when he heard what sounded like several male voices speaking from the direction of the kitchen, he immediately dismissed the thought of his grandson and got up to see who exactly was causing such a commotion this early in the morning.

It better not be any Took or Brandbuck relations making themselves at home. They're almost as bad house guests as his awful nephew and his dreadful wife.

Oh, how he would like to give that woman an earful for the things she had dared to say to his daughter yesterday afternoon.

"Only," he muttered sadly to himself as he dressed carefully into one of his best waistcoat and trousers, "I never seem to have the strength to say what I think these days. Drat this illness of mine!"

Once he was respectably dressed he made his way slowly, with the aid of his walking stick, down the hall for the kitchen, his frown deepening as he heard the male voices more clearly.

They don't sound like any of his in-laws, but who else could it possibly? It didn't sound like Gandalf, the mad wizard who visited his daughter and grandson periodically and had convinced him to allow his daughter to leave home, the eve of that blasted wedding, to go one some adventure or another.

Bungo Baggins had never quite forgiven the wizard for this, not when his dearest daughter returned to him unhappy and heartbroken with a swollen belly but with no word to speak about her child's, his grandchild's, father.

Yes, the wizard had kept his promise to bring her back to him alive, but had broken the promise to bring her back whole, which he most certainly did not do!

His daughter was far from whole, even though her smile was slowly coming back and she was no longer looking off into the distance with a pained and wistful expression. She was no longer the happy hobbit lass that she was before that mad adventure.

He took one step into his kitchen before freezing at the sight within.

Dwarves! What are dwarves doing in his kitchen this early in the morning?

They appeared to be cooking breakfast though he was baffled at how they could produce such loud noises!

"Good – good morning." He stuttered out causing, to his ever so slight amusement, the dwarves in his kitchen to jump. He would have fully smiled if he had not gotten a good look at the dwarves.

Did one have some kind of metal sticking out of his forehead? Another had a terrible scar across his face with a great chunk of his nose missing!

"Good morning." That very dwarf merrily greeted him with a wide smile and gesturing for Bungo to take a seat… at his own kitchen table.

"Bofur at your service" the dwarf added with a bow.

"Bungo Baggins at yours." Bungo replied weakly as the other three (well it was more like two). The third, the one with the bit of metal sticking out of his head was introduced by Bofur – introduced themselves along with offering him their services.

"May I ask when you four all got here?" Bungo asked weakly as he watched the dwarves move around his kitchen with surprising familiarity even though this was the first time that he knew of they had ever been in his kitchen.

"Last night, my good sir." This was supplied by a younger dwarf than Bofur, one with thick dark locks but without much of beard, unlike the other three who had beards that were elaborately braided with beads decorating them.

Bungo gave this dwarf a particularly long, hard look as he had the same colour hair as Bungo's young grandson. And it wasn't just the hair colour either, there were several features that this dwarf had the Bungo was sure his grandson shared.

Was this dwarf his grandson's father? If he is, Bungo should be giving him a good chewing out for abandoning his daughter during her time of need and for not marrying her like a respectable fellow.

However, words refused to pass from his lips as usual. So he simply sat at his kitchen table and watched the dwarves cook up his pantry without a word. They spoke plenty without his input and yet he understood very little of what they spoke even though they spoke in the common tongue.

They seemed like a friendly bunch if he got nothing else from them, cheerful and not arrogant like he had always been led to believe all dwarves were. He tried to remember what little his daughter had told him about her adventure, about the dwarves that she had gone with.

"My-my daughter, she knows that you are here?" Bungo asked softly once the dwarves had started to slow in their mad cooking frenzy.

"Oh yes sir, she was the one who let us in last night." A meek young dwarf – at least Bungo believe that he was young; he looked it, even though he had more of a beard than the dark haired fellow – with reddish brown hair and beard said.

Bungo gave a jerky nod. Funny, his daughter told him off for opening the door to whoever knocked.

"You-you are the dwarves. The dwarves from that mad venture my lass went on." _And came back to me broken-hearted_, he left that unsaid and watched as the dwarves nodded.

"Yes, there are nine more of us from our original company, but we're the only ones who have come to visit." Bofur informs him with a smile.

Bungo nodded, relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with thirteen dwarves all at once.

"Are you," he tried but his tongue tangled and already he could feel his mind start to wander. _No, not now_, he mentally groaned and forced himself to focus, "none of you – are any of you the – my grandson's?"

"No." Bofur shook his head gently, a sad look in his eyes, "no, none of us are your grandson's Pa. We didn't even know of the lad until last night."

Bungo shoulder's slumped, half with relief as this would mean his daughter and grandson would not be leaving him and annoyance that his grandson's father was still refusing to show himself, that wretch!

"He doesn't know either." The young dwarf, Kili was it added.

"So he is a useless bugger than." Bungo grumbled before blushing for he hadn't meant to say that out loud. He had always made a point of keeping his thoughts about his grandson's father to himself so as to not upset his daughter with them.

To his surprise the dwarves laughed.

"Apologies." Bofur offered once the dwarves had calmed down, "it's just we've been thinking a similar thing about our esteemed leader."

"Esteemed leader?" Bungo asked in bewilderment.

"How much has Bilbo told you about our adventure?" Bofur asked slowly and carefully.

"Not very much," Bungo replied huffily, crossing his arms against his chest. It had always frustrated him with how tight lipped his daughter was about her venture, " all she's told me about her venture was that she met elves, that there was a lot of walking involved and something about reclaiming a mountain and treasure or some nonsense like that."

"Don't know whether to be insulted or amused." Bungo heard Kili whisper to the other young dwarf who giggled behind his hand. They both quieted down when Bofur shot them a warning look.

"Yes, our adventure went something like that," Bofur agreed, "and the leader of our venture goes by the name of Thorin Oakenshield and…"

"And he's my grandson's father is he, this Mister Oakenshield?"

"Oakenshield is more of a title, but yes, he is." Bofur replied with a nod.

"I don't care much for titles; I care about my daughter, about how she came home to me with a broken-heart and a birthing a child all by herself. I care about my grandson who is growing up without a father. I care about the fact that there are awful people around the Shire who are talking badly about my child and grandchild because this dwarf hasn't taken responsibility by doing the right thing by my daughter as any decent fellow should, be him hobbit, dwarf, man or elf." Bungo felt both weaken and exhilarated as he finished. It had been a long, long time since he had spoken so many words without breath. He was pleased to see the dwarves were all hanging their heads in shame.

"You are right, of course." Bofur replied slowly, "Thorin should be taking responsibility for what he had done and please believe me when I say he most likely would have if he had known of Bilbo's condition before she, ah, left us to return home. But he did not, and so he has no idea that he has sired a child. But," Bofur continued on quickly when he saw that Bungo was opening his mouth to protest, "that is of course no excuse for all that Bilbo has suffered these past few years. So on our leaders behalf, please allow us to ask for your forgiveness and speak our humblest apologies for all the grief and suffering that Bilbo has suffered on Thorin's behalf."

"Well now," Bungo says feeling quite at a loss for the dwarves before him look quite genuine in their remorse.

"Well now." He said again, "I suppose it's truly up to my lass on whether or not to forgive you and of course _him_, but I suppose…" he gave a weak shrug of his shoulders before nodding his head, "I accept your apologies."

The four dwarves actually looked relieved, as if they truly cared to have his forgiveness and for him accept their apologies.

"I don't suppose I'll come into my kitchen to find _him_ cooking breakfast will I?" he asked, feeling quite comfortable in the dwarves presence now, comfortable enough to even bring out his pipe and light it, despite the chastising he will receive from his daughter for smoking in the kitchen.

The dwarf known as Kili snorted. "Unlikely."

"Will there ever be a chance that I meet the fellow?"

The four dwarves hesitated.

"Depends." Bofur started cautiously.

"On?"

"On whether he ever finds about the lad." Kili replied flopping down beside on the bench.

"You're not going to tell him?"

"Bilbo doesn't wish us to and," the young dwarf grinned mischievously, "I don't feel so inclined to tell him myself. Do you?"

"For my daughter's sake, no." Bungo agreed, chewing on the end of his pipe, "but for my grandson…"

"Bilbo spoke of telling Frodo about everything on his thirty-third birthday." Bofur offered.

"Did she? Yes, that does sound like something she would think of doing. I don't suppose this fellow is anywhere near to here, is he?"

When the dwarves shook their heads, Bungo sighed.

"Thought as much. Always did find it curious that nobody besides you lot came after her. Can't imagine why anyone would even think to let her go but," he blushed again, "of course, I am her father, so I am biased."

"No, we agree with you completely. Thorin was a fool for letting her go." Kili grinned back at him.

"Did he love her?" Bungo asked, not sure if it would make the situation a little better or not if he knew that this Thorin fellow loved his daughter or not.

"We thought he did..." Kili started, but Bofur interrupted him.

"He does, he just… has a hard time showing it to rest of Middle-Earth."

"My daughter included?" Bungo asked a little dryly.

"Your daughter in particular." Bofur nodded. "But he does love her and misses her greatly."

"Then why isn't he here then?" Bungo asked hotly, "begging for her forgiveness and…"

"It's complicated." The dwarves sheepishly interrupted him.

"How so?"

Before any of the dwarves could answer him, a cautious voice spoke out from the doorway of the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Bungo looked towards the doorway of the kitchen where his daughter stood, his grandson on her hip, looking into the room with a guarded, caution expression.

"Morning." The dwarves greeted his daughter with wide cheerful grins.

"Morning." His daughter replied with small smile playing on her lips and as her guarded expression started to slip.

"Orning!" he smiled at his little grandson who was squirming in his mother's arms to be let down, his big blue eyes wide with delight as he took in the strangers in the kitchen.

"Warves! Mama, warves!" the little lad squealed in absolute delight. "Warves ayed!"

"Yes, yes they did. I told you that they were still here, did I not?" his daughter said to her squirming child with an indulgent smile that had the little boy beamed in return.

"We cooked breakfast." The red haired dwarf said with a wide grin, gesturing to all the food lay out on the kitchen table.

"Yes, yes, you did." Bilbo was laughing as she shifted Frodo on her hip. "Is there any food left in the pantry?" she teased and the dwarves rolled their eyes at the way she teased them.

"Of course." Bofur said as he moved forward to her side, his arms moving shyly to take the lad from his mother, the boy more than eager to be in his arms and examine his odd face.

Bungo, who had watched his daughter rebuff many an offer to hold her son for her, was surprised when she relinquished her son into the dwarf's arms without so much a word of protest before moving forward to get herself some breakfast.

Something, he realised at the grumble of his belly, he should do himself.

And so he did, sitting back contently at his kitchen table, watching in silence his daughter move and talk amongst these strange dwarves with ease and comfortable air that she never possessed when talking and moving amongst members of their own race, their own family!

A part of him, the very pure and ridged Baggins side of him knows he should be disturbed by this, horrified even, but the more mellow side him, the side that had him fall head of heels for the Great Took's eldest daughter, the wild and beautiful Belladonna, is simply pleased to see his daughter happy, a sight too rare for his liking.

A part of him fears that she will leave him again, this time for good. He thinks back on those few and rare moments that she had told him about her adventure. How her eyes would glow and sparkle as she spoke of far off place, of grand people who never aged, of great eagles and men who can turn into bears. Of proud and magnificent dwarrow lords and warriors who never forgot and never forgave, of a lone mountain that stood tall above all others.

How she looked then was how she looked now as she talked with the dwarves, her eyes glowing, the infamous Took side of her coming forth and once more shining out as it had done when she was a young hobbit lass.

He wondered how these dwarves saw her. They clearly thought of her as an equal, respected her and thought her one of them. One in particular looked at her with an expression that Bungo could only describe as one of love.

Would they try and take her away again? Bungo wasn't sure, and he feared the answer, feared it because he knew she would go. If they asked, she would go with them, he was sure of it, for she no longer belonged in the Shire.

_Once I'm gone_, he thinks sadly, _she and Frodo will leave, leave the Shire to see the world and visit the places she spoke of and the ones she did not. She'll leave and never return._

His heart aches a little at the thought, but he doesn't allow it to overwhelm him. Instead he enjoys seeing his daughter happy, content to allow these dwarves to stay with them for a time, for as long as his daughter wishes, for her happiness is what he wants most in the world.


	10. The Unpleasantness of Relatives

**Chapter Ten**

**The Unpleasantness of Relatives**

The next few days for Bilbo were some of the best that she had experience in many years. She was once more amongst friends who understood and cared for her and did not think her the slightest bit odd when she started making up songs or poems on the spot about distant lands and grand creatures.

In fact, after a few verses, the dwarves would usually join in, offering suggestion here and there to help the flow of the tune or poem. They also, after they found out about it of course, were very interested in her book.

_There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale_ was the name of her tale and recounted their quest for Erebor from her point of view. She hadn't finished writing it of course. Too busy was she taking care of an active child and ill father, not to mention the ache in her chest that she felt whenever she thought back over their quest, but she had written enough for the four dwarves to comment over, which they did with a great deal of delight and amusement as they read over the beginning days of their adventure from her how she saw them.

Once they had read as much as she had so far written they begged for more, even when she laughingly point out they had lived the adventure her book spoke of and did not need it written down for them to know it.

Even so, they argued in return, the book was written with such humour and lightness and had such a fresh feel to it that they simply wanted to read more of it.

Bilbo had shaken her head, laughingly saying that the book wasn't meant to be a favourite bedtime story but a recounting of what happened during their quest for Erebor.

"Leave the history and all the boring stuff for Balin and Ori to write up," Kili had said with a firmness to his voice that reminded Bilbo painfully of his Uncle. At least with Kili, he spoke with a smile instead of a seemingly permanent grim scowl, "you write the tale that will be remembered forever and a day."

The other dwarves nodded their encouragement at this and with that in mind; Bilbo had started to write once more. It was quite a relief to write down her memories and thoughts about their quest down into the book and it helped her to deal with her lingering grief and sadness of what happened at the end, at the mountain and before the great battle.

The sun was warm upon her features from where she was pottering around her garden, listening to her son's giggles as Kili and Ori played with him, throwing him up into the air and chasing him all around the hill and underneath the great tree that grew above the hobbit-hole. Bifur and Bofur sat side by side on the grassy slope, whittling away at some wood.

"Mama! Mama!" She felt a small thud against her legs as her little lad crashed into her from full speed.

"Hello there, what are you doing?" She smiled down at him.

"Unning rom te mean gob-ins." Frodo cried with a wide grin before letting out a loud squeal as Kili suddenly jumped in front of them.

"Honestly," Bilbo snorted with amusement, "what are you teaching my son!"

"Ah…" Kili replied intelligently before smiling the innocent smile that he had often sent her way during their quest whenever she had been bordering on being cranky with him for something or other he and his older brother had done.

"Kili, he has no need to know what goblins are." Bilbo moaned, thinking of the nightmares she still suffered from the foul and evil beings.

"We're only playing Bilbo." Ori said as he popped up from behind Kili.

"I know, I'm just…" she trailed off as she looked back down at her son who was grinning widely back at the two dwarves.

"Trying to protect him from the big, bad world?" Kili offered and she nodded.

"Yes, exactly. Please, can't I keep him innocent of the world outside the Shire for a little while longer? He's just a baby."

"He's going to learn about them sooner or later." Kili grumbled unhappily, shuffling his feet.

"Yes, he will most likely," Bilbo agreed with a sigh. She wasn't stupid or blind, her son was an adventurous little lad already and when he was older she had no doubt that he would go out into the big, bad world outside the safe and beautiful Shire, "but preferably not before his third birthday!"

"Oh, alright." The two dwarves sighed before grinning at the little Dwobbit – Bilbo was horrified by the name that Ori and Kili had come up with for what her son was, but they refused to cease calling him it and the other two, who were older and should know better were now using the term too. Heavens above, she heard her papa calling Frodo a Dwobbit only the other day! – causing him let out another delighted squeal and to run away as fast as his little legs could carry him while the two dwarves once more gave chase.

Giggling she walked over to where the other two were whittling.

"Corrupting your boy are they?" Bofur teased as she sat down beside him and Bifur.

"Of course, how could I expect anything else from them?" she laughed as she leant back against the grass, her head back so that the sun warmed her face, smiling as she listened to her son's giggles and the sound of Kili's and Ori's promises to get him.

Bofur chuckled and went back to his work while Bilbo enjoyed the sun, wishing that things could remain this way, but of course it could not and the thought ate away at her inside.

"We'll – we'll have to return soon." Bofur voice said through the warm sunlight and despite its previous warmth Bilbo now found herself to be growing cold. She sat up slowly and looked back at him.

"When?"

"Not quite yet," Bofur answered hurriedly, "but…"

"Soon."

"Yes, we're expected back at Erebor by the end of autumn and if we don't…"

"The king will send out a search party?"

"That might just come by here." Bofur nodded and Bilbo sighed, plucking at the grass beside her.

"I knew you could not stay for long," she admitted softly, "but, I really and truly do not wish for you to go."

"Same, lass, same." Bofur replied as he gave her a sad smile, "But we won't leave for a little while yet." He reassured her and she smiled in relief. She wasn't quite ready yet to say goodbye. Frodo certainly wasn't. The little boy adored the dwarves that he had only known for a few days almost as much as he adored Gandalf. Bilbo was certain that Gandalf only came first in the little boy's heart due to the fact that wizard could make such spectacular fireworks.

She was just settling down again on the grass in the warm sun again, sleep seeming almost inevitable when she heard a harsh coughing sound coming from somewhere near her front gate.

Oh no, not now. Why did the wretched woman have to come by now?

Bilbo sat up slowly and stared in unconcealed annoyance at the miserable old bat standing by her front gate staring at her in her usual snotty way. Obviously, the hobbit woman had not yet realised that Bilbo's companions were dwarves or she would have been looking less snotty and more horrified to discover that Bilbo was once more causing disgrace to the family.

"Billanna Baggins!"

"Good afternoon Lobelia," Bilbo called back not bothering to get up or make any motion for her cousin-in-law to enter her garden, "what can I do for you today?" This was, of course, always a stupid act of courtesy, asking a Sackville-Baggins what you can do for them for you quickly found your ear being chewed off with their numerous complaints and finding yourself stuck with them staying for numerous meals of the day.

But sadly even though Bilbo herself knew all of this quite well, it was a force of habit that had been drummed into her since her earliest hobbit lass days and it was one that was hard to break, even when you did have Sackville-Baggins calling at least once a week.

Lobelia sent her a very hard look and opened her mouth to say something but was stopped be the delighted squeal from Frodo who was being carried back to his mother underneath Kili's arm, who was grinning almost as manically as his cousin, with Ori trotting at their heels, smiling.

"You've got yourself a fast little tyke, Bilbo." Kili called beaming with pride at his cousin who was still laughing and squirming under his arm. "He's almost as fast as…" Kili was interrupted by the horrified gasp from Lobelia who was staring at him in horror, at all the dwarves in horror before she let out a furious shriek.

"BILLANNA BAGGINS how could _you_!"

Bilbo sighed heavily as she got slowly to her feet, dusting off her skirt as she did so before trotting down to her front garden gate, ignoring the angry glares her dwarves were shooting at her cousin's wife.

"How could I what, Lobelia?" Bilbo asked her cousin-in-law innocently causing Lobelia to stop glaring at the dwarves and turning her nasty gaze upon her. Bilbo braced herself for an onslaught of nasty comments.

"Dwarves, Billanna! You are consorting with _dwarves_ again! How could you! How could you do this to the family, you selfish girl! Have you not heard the talk that others speak! The rumours? Have you forgotten everything I spoke to you about last week? Why, why must you be so selfish and bring us all down to your disgraceful level! Your father may be able to stand for this new offence, but I, I will not! Nor will my husband, you can be sure of that!" Lobelia snapped furiously at her. Bilbo forced herself not to roll her eyes at the ridiculous woman while also trying to keep her dwarves from getting involved.

She glanced back at Bofur who seemed to be the only one not ready to cause some kind of bodily harm towards her cousin-in-law, if only by just. He looked to be as angry as the rest of them. Kili looked beside himself and if weren't for the fact that he was still holding Frodo in his arms, Bilbo was sure he would have strike Lobelia, her being of the fair gender or not.

_Which would be bad_, Bilbo told herself over and over again, _very, very bad_!

"Billanna, are you listening to me, you wretched girl?"

"Yes, Lobelia."

"Don't say 'yes Lobelia' in that tone with me, girl! I, _I_ at least am thinking of our family while you, _you_ are acting like, like some kind of…" She stuttered over a word that had the dwarves standing behind Bilbo snarling back at Lobelia in rage.

"Lobelia," Bilbo spoke quickly not wishing for her cousin to be struck despite her hurtful words, "please, it's not like that. These dwarves are my friends and are here to…"

"I know why they're here!" Lobelia cried shrilly, "Anyone with a brain, which you are clearly missing my girl, knows why they're here. Did you not learn that the first time? From the bastard child you already have that…"

"Please Lobelia," She was close to begging now. She didn't much care for what Lobelia was saying, she had heard all of this before, but she knew that the dwarves behind her did care, very much and Bilbo was growing more and more fearful of what they would do to Lobelia if she continued. "Please Lobelia, now really isn't a good time for this."

"Not a good time! Not a good time! Now you listen to me my girl, you may have fallen for their ways and allowed for yourself to be disgraced, by I, I will not allow for this family to be disgraced any further because of your stupidity!" she made to come into Bilbo's garden, her whole body shaking with uncontrollable anger.

"Lobelia, no!" Bilbo cried stepping in front of her cousin-in-law.

_SLAP_

Bilbo staggered under the surprising force that her cousin-in-law had placed behind her hand as it hit her across her face.

"MAMA!" She heard the frighten cry of her child. She had to go and comfort him, show him that it was alright, that she was alright, but her mind had all but frozen from shock.

She had never been slapped before. Not ever, not once. Even Thorin at his most furious had never hit her. Given her a rough shake maybe, but never had he laid a hand upon her. His words had struck her enough without him landing any physically blows.

"If you strike her again," she hears Kili say in the deadliest of voices, reminding her once more of his uncle and for a single breath she thought Thorin was standing behind her, not his nephew, "I will break your arm. I promise you."

"Kili, don't." She mumbled her brain slowly stirring itself enough to allow her to speak, to move, though the blood was still humming in her ears and she still felt reasonably numb. She reaches up and gingerly touches the cheek that Lobelia has struck and winced a little, her eyes watering, though more from humiliation and fury than from actual pain. What was a little slap from a hobbit compared to being thrown and battered against rocks and being almost run through by a wicked Orc blade?

"Mama?" she felt her son's small arms wrap around her waist as he buried his head against her hip.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to look down at him and smile as she ran her fingers through his curls.

"It's alright sweetheart, shush, it's alright." Bilbo whispered softly to him.

"It bloody well ain't alright!" Bofur said coming up behind her and the next thing she knew both she and Frodo were being dragged backwards and she found herself now staring at a wall of dwarves, blocking her from her cousin-in-law. Or blocking her cousin-in-law from her.

"It's fine!" Bilbo cried, trying to push her way passed her protective dwarves. "No harm has been done. I'm fine, please just let it be!"

"Let it be?" Kili had swung around to face her, his eyes burning with fury though they soften as they looked at her, "she slapped you! Insulted your honour and was implying that you were…"

"Yes, yes!" Bilbo cried over him, "I know all of that, I have been standing here the whole time, you know. But it doesn't matter, do you hear me?" She spoke a little louder so that all the dwarves looked back at her, "it doesn't matter, so please let it be!"

She pushed fully past the dwarves to look her cousin-in-law in the face. Lobelia looked to be in a state of shock, her dark eyes wide and staring at the hand that had slapped Bilbo across the face.

"Thank you, Lobelia for stopping by, but please, if you could refrain from doing so while my dwarf friends are still here, I would deeply appreciate it."

Lobelia blinked at her for a moment, her mouth opening as if to say something before closing it again and simply gave her a sharp nod and stalked back down Bagshot Lane, her head held high.

"You shouldn't have let her off so lightly?" Kili growled angrily.

"Oh Kili and what should I have done?" She asked as she watched her cousin-in-law disappear down the lane before turning to look up at the dwarf prince, "Break her arm?"

"No," the prince replied, "I would have done that, but you, you should not have allowed her to say such things to you."

"Kili," Bilbo sighed, "she's been saying such thing to me since I returned home four years ago, the only difference with today was that you four were present. Seeing you and realising what you were, must have finally caused her to… snap?" Bilbo wasn't excusing her cousin-in-laws behaviour, no chance of that, but she couldn't deal with the woman that way her dwarves wanted her too.

"So this has happened before?" Bofur asked looking at Bilbo's throbbing cheek with fury that was so unlike him.

"What? No! This," she waved a hand at her cheek, "has never happened before today. Usually she just snaps at me for awhile and then leaves after eating our best cakes and has drunk quite a bit of tea and sherry."

"You shouldn't have to put up with that kind of…" Kili spoke the final words of his sentence in dwarvish that Bilbo did not understand but was certain that whatever he had said was not very polite or complimentary towards Lobelia so she gave him a sharp smack to his arm just as both Bofur and Bifur gave him sharp slaps over the back of his head.

"What? It's true! Bilbo shouldn't have to put up with this kind of disrespect within her homeland."

"Well, I do." Bilbo muttered as she lifted Frodo onto her hip and started to make her way up the front steps to go instead her home, "So please stop threatening to break the arms of everyone who insults me, you'll find yourself with aching fingers from the sheer number of arms you'll be forced to break to keep your promise."

"But…"

"No buts," she was close to snapping now, shooting warning looks over her shoulder at the dwarves, "I mean it. Leave it all well enough alone."

She could hear the dwarves grumbling behind her in dwarvish but she paid them no heed as she marched herself to the kitchen to start preparing lunch. Cooking always took her mind off unpleasant memories.

"Are you angry with us?" Bilbo looked up from her cooking to see the dwarves staring at her from the doorway of the kitchen, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Frodo slide off the bench she had set him off and tottered over to Bofur, his arms raised to be picked up so that he could play with dwarf's funny hat.

"No. No, of course not." She replied and watched as the dwarves shoulders slumped forward in relief.

"I'm sorry," Kili said staring down at his shuffling feet, "I should not have threatened your cousin like that. It just that…" he looked up at her with sad eyes, his hand reaching out and gently touching her still painfully stinging cheek. She ducked her head in shame and embarrassment.

"It won't happen again." She assured him, all of them.

"What won't happen again?" Her father asked as he hobbled slowly into the kitchen, smiling in greeting to the dwarves though his easy smile faulted when he saw how sombre they all looked.

"Lobelia came to visit Papa." Bilbo said not looking up from her cooking.

"What has the awful woman said now?" Bungo asked looking from his daughter to her sombre dwarves.

"Nothing Papa," Bilbo tried to assure her father without looking him in the face, hoping to hide her cheek for a long as possible, "everything is fine."

Her father snorted.

"Hardly anything is fine whenever that woman comes to visit, so please, tell me what was said, what has happened to make you all so sombre."

"Lobelia," Bilbo sighed, "was simply being Lobelia, Papa. Do not worry." She looked up at her papa and tried to smile reassuringly to ease his worries, only to remember her cheek too late as her father's eyes fell upon it, eyes widening with shock.

"Billanna!" he said hobbling to her side and taking her face gently in his old, wrinkled hands.

"Papa, its fine. It does not even hurt." She said, trying not to wince as her father gently pressed against it.

"Did she – that woman – did she?" her father stuttered his face growing red with anger. "Blast – that woman, next time I see her I'll…"

"Papa," Bilbo said placing her hands upon her father's frail shoulders, "please calm yourself. All is well. Our good dwarves saw that she will never do this to me again and I very much doubt we'll be seeing her nearly as frequently now."

"I should hope so!" Her father cried as he allowed himself to be seated down at the kitchen table, "the nerve of that - that woman! How dare she! How…"

"Papa, please." Bilbo replied, "It's alright." She smiled at him before placing a kiss to his temple.

"Don't worry Mister Baggins," Kili said as Bilbo went back to cooking lunch, "she wouldn't allow us to vent our anger over the unpleasant event either."

"My daughter has a kind and gentle heart."

"That she does." The dwarves agreed as one ignoring the annoyed look said hobbit was giving them.

"Oh hush, all of you." Bilbo groaned, "You two," she gestured to Kili and Ori, "set the table please."

"Of course, madam." The two youngest dwarves bowed to her, grinning at her with equal cheek but did as she asked, taking out plates and cutlery while she served up their lunch.

Lunch was a quiet affair, far less laughter and jokes were made than usual and Bilbo could not bring herself to make mindless chatter. Despite what she said about everything being fine, that Lobelia's words had done her no harm and that she was used to the unkind thoughts directed towards her, deep inside of her she ached and just like the night that she had her house once more invaded by dwarves, Bilbo founded herself feeling miserable and sorry for herself.

Her father and the dwarves all kept their distance during that afternoon, allowing her to have the space she desperately craved as she shut herself up into her bedroom.

Her cheek was very red from Lobelia slap and Bilbo predicted that she would have a rather pretty bruise decorating her cheek the next morning.

_The bastard child you already have_

Bilbo cringed as Lobelia's hurtful words resounded around her head and felt tears prick in her eyes.

"Honestly girl," Bilbo whispered harshly to herself as she sat heavily down upon her bed, "she spoke no words that you haven't heard before, so stop your blubbering this instance! Worse has been spoken to you by far!"

_You miserable hobbit._

Words like that…

Tears once more started to flow down her cheeks as she remembered _him_ and _his_ harsh words towards her before he cast her from his side forever.

She remembered how he shook her and yelled at her. So great was he's fury that Bilbo had truly feared that he would only break from it when he did exactly as he threaten to do and that was throwing her from the battlements of Erebor to the mountain's rocky roots far below.

Raged sobs broke free of her and she felt as if she was being ripped from the inside out. Why hadn't he just killed her then and there? Why did he leave her alive to live with this constant pain?

_If he had killed you, he would be dead and his child would never have been born into this world. Your child_. A voice whispered gently within her head. It sounded very much like Gandalf's which calmed her greatly.

She nodded and took a few deep breathes to calm herself. She washed away her tears in her bedside wash basin before checking her appearance in her mirror.

Her eyes were red and puffy still but she could easily pass that off as a side effect of her hurt cheek and when she smiled the redness and puffiness was less noticeable.

She done with feeling sorry for herself and with her head held high she strode out into the front room where the dwarves were playing with Frodo, helping him build mountains, castles and forts with the wooden blocks Bilbo had purchased for him for his second birthday.

"Mama." Frodo cried in delight, running to his mother's side and hugging himself to her side.

"Hello my sweetheart," She said smiling at him, "are you being good?"

"Yup!" Frodo beamed before babbling at half a mile a minute about the complicated and involved game he was playing with the dwarves, proudly presenting her with a perfect toy-size replicate of Smaug the Dragon that Bofur had made for him.

"I would paint it, but," Bofur apologized blushing, "I did not think to bring any paints with me."

"He's wonderful," Bilbo said as she turned the fantastic Dragon toy over in her hands, "looks exactly how he did when I spoke with him."

"Mama?" Frodo gasped, "uoo 'oke ith a wagon?"

"Yes, yes I did," Bilbo said trying not to sound too proud of herself. Not that the pride last long, not when the guilt of what happened after her talk with Smaug played back over in her mind, as fresh as if it had been only yesterday.

If only she had kept her mouth shut about barrel-riding! She could have spared everyone a great deal of pain and suffering.

"Mama?" she was drawn from her dark thoughts – hadn't she only moments ago stated that she was done with feeling sorry for herself? – and turned her attention back on to her son.

"Hmmm, what is it?"

" 'ell me bout the wagon… peese?" her son begged with his big blue eyes.

Bilbo hesitated; she wasn't really in the mood to talk about Smaug.

"Maybe some other time," she said watching her son's face fall, "but how bout instead I tell you the tale of three monstrous trolls? About how they argued amongst themselves until daybreak about how they were going to cook thirteen dwarves and a burrahobbit. Whether it be to turn them on a spit or to sit on them one by one and squash the dwarves into jelly!"

Her son let out his predictable gasp, even though he had heard this particular story many, many times before, he still got excited over hearing it again.

Bilbo curled up into her favourite chair, Frodo cuddled up in her lap, clutching his new toy Smaug close to his chest while the dwarves sat themselves around her as she started to tell her tale.

And even though the dwarves were a part of the story and knew it as well as Bilbo did, it still felt as new to them as any new tale and they were quickly drawn into the tale she wove like a colourful tapestry.


	11. I Wish You All the Happiness

**Chapter Eleven**

**I Wish You All the Happiness**

It was late, _very_ late. A crescent moon cast a soft glow about Bilbo's room, making it appear almost mystical.

She listened carefully for the sounds that may have woken her from a peaceful slumber but, heard no crying from her son nor the sound of her father calling out to her. Now that she was wide awake, Bilbo wondered what had pulled her away from a sound slumber.

There wasn't any danger, she was sure of that, but something out of the normal had most definitely woken her.

Swinging herself out of bed, she pulled on her familiar dressing gown she padded out of her bedroom heading straight down the corridor to check on her child.

He was sleeping soundly in his cot, arms wrapped tightly around his woollen bear toy and new wooden dragon. His mouth was hanging on and he had obviously been tossing and turning his sleep for his bed clothes were a tangled mess around him and his night shirt was pulled down one shoulder.

She smiled affectionately at the sight before moving forward to untangle him from his bedclothes. He let out a small whine of protest but did not wake.

She gently ran her fingers over his smooth soft shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing the birthmark there. It was in the shape of a dwarven rune and whenever Bilbo looked at it she was filled with a sense of pride and apprehension. She was certain that she had seen this particular mark before, and was certain that it was a rune of some kind – which was why she never simply dismissed it as a strangely shaped birthmark – but whenever she asked Gandalf about it, he just gave her one his looks and the subject was quickly changed.

It had been a question that had been resting on the tip of her tongue for days since four of her dwarves had come to stay with her, but she always found some reason or another to stop herself from asking.

She knew how protective dwarves were of their culture, in particular their women and children, so she wasn't sure how to voice her question even to these four who were by far some of the most laid-back and open-minded dwarves in their company. She wasn't sure if it was normal for dwarrow children to be born with dwarven runes on their shoulders. When she had first discovered the mark and spent time thinking it over, she didn't think it sounded so strange a thing, not for dwarves at least.

Thorin she knew from her rather, ah, intimate relationship with him, had many strange marks decorating his body. She had learnt the meanings behind some of them, but there were still many more she did not know the reasons or meanings behind.

She feared the mark's meaning, so she held her tongue despite her sensible side protests.

She gently tugged his night shirt straight before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Sleep well my heart." She whispered before leaving the room, closing the door so that it was now only a fraction open.

She checked on her father next and he, like her son, was fast asleep, though his bed clothes were still straight and not thrown and tangled all over the place.

She hardly felt a need to check on the dwarves, they could take care of themselves. Besides she did not think she would be able to stand their teasing if they caught her checking on them in the middle of the night like some kind of mother hen. There was already one mother hen within the company, and Bilbo felt very little need to take the title away from him.

Instead she did a quick round of her house, not that she feared that an intruder had gotten in, she was simply checking that no window had been left open or something just as trivial.

She found no window open or anything else out of place and was just thinking of heading back to bed when she did notice that her front door had, in fact, been left open ajar.

Her heart did a silly little frightened thump within her chest as she crept towards her front door, her hand closing around the handle of the wicked umbrella that had thumped the dwarves over their heads earlier that week.

Heart in her mouth she opened her front door only to find no one there. After another look outside she saw smoke rings moving lazily about in the clear night air and felt immediately stupid for fearing the worst.

Still feeling quite silly, she set her umbrella once more in its rightful place behind the front door before padding lightly outside to see who the other night owl was.

"Bofur?"

The poor dwarf almost jumped out of his skin from where he sat upon her garden bench, and Bilbo felt terrible for not making her presence better known before she stood right by him and spoke his name.

"Eh, lass," he chuckled weakly, placing a hand over his heart, "thought we told you often enough not sneak up on us like that."

Bilbo blushed deeply.

Yes, they had asked her, many, many times to make her presence known to them for she had spooked more than one dwarf during their journey. It had become something of a game for some of them, to try and catch her before she snuck – they said snuck, she said walking normally – upon them. Others had found it insulting that she was able to catch them unaware. Gloin in particular had taken it as a personal offense and had made it his duty to try and catch her as he was one of the dwarves she particularly spooked whenever she appeared by their side.

By the time they had reached Laketown, they were threatening to buy her a bell to tie around her neck so that they would hear her comings and goings no matter how quiet she was. She had quickly disproven this theory when they actually did purchase a bell for her – and with a self-sacrificing sigh she had tied it on a pretty ribbon around her neck – and spent a day walking around with it on. She scared nine dwarves out of their wits that day. Mind you, she had worked an extra bit harder than usual to do this. And she had failed in her ultimate goal all the same.

Her ultimate goal had been to sneak up on Thorin, to prove once and for all that she was the best burglar he could ever hope for, only… the bell had jingled at just the wrong moment, and she hadn't been able to jump away fast enough before he caught her in his arms and pulled her, screaming and laughing into his lap while he chuckled, whispering "got you" into her ear.

"Sorry." She replied sheepishly forcing herself back into the present and away from the memories of Thorin's warm, safe arms.

"Eh, don't be lass, you can't help what you are any more than we can." He moved over on the bench for her to sit down beside him.

"Still, I should have made some noise or something…" she trailed off lamely causing Bofur to chuckle fondly.

"Heh, I've missed you lass."

Bilbo snorted.

"I can hardly think why, what with how much trouble I caused all of you."

Bofur laughed.

"Ya certainly knew how to keep things interesting." He replied causing Bilbo to thump him on his shoulder.

"Not by choice!" she growled in annoyance.

"Even so," he said smiling at her fondly, "I'm very glad you chose to come along on our mad venture."

"You weren't much help convincing me to join though." Bilbo teased, her eyes twinkling, "'think furnace, with wings'? How did you ever think that would be reassuring? Or might I add," she shot him a cynical look and continued, "'Flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you're nothing more than a pile of ash'." She failed in trying to mimic his voice, which might have been why he was doubled over laughing uncontrollably, his pipe dropping from his fingers and onto the soft grass.

"I was only trying to help." He finally choked out as he tried to regain his breath, picking up his pipe.

"I fainted!"

"Yes, well…" he wiped his eyes and grinned down at her while she rolled her eyes back at him. "You still came along, despite what I said."

"Only because I didn't want to get married," Bilbo huffed, "and going on an adventure was the perfect excuse to get out of it."

The dwarf simply raised his eyebrow down at her but said nothing. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

"Do you," Bofur started and Bilbo could hear the hesitation in the dwarf's voice, "do you ever wish you hadn't come along with us? That you hadn't run out your front door after us? I know how homesick you got during our journey, and we weren't – we were not always the most understanding bunch to be around, especially towards you."

Bilbo stared up at him in surprise.

"No. Well… yes." She wrestled with the question, "It had its moments. Not all our venture was bad; there are bits of it I quite enjoyed."

"And bits that still give you nightmares?" Bofur asked softly sounding sad and ashamed.

Bilbo looked at him in horror.

"How did you know…" she had always thought she had been quiet when she was suffering from her nightmares. She had never before woken her father or son with them, so how did Bofur know?

"We hear you crying out in your sleep." Bofur said shamefaced and sad causing Bilbo to splutter more. We? That meant that the others had heard her too! And not all her dreams were about raging wars and pale orcs, huge spiders and thousands of goblins swarming down dark, dank tunnels towards her, separating her from her friends. Nor were they about a creature that had no other name than the sound he made as he muttered away to himself, crying out for his precious as he chased her, chased her and chased her until she could run no more. No, not all her nightmares were about the creatures that were feared to lurk in the darkest of night. No, some of them, a lot of them, more than she dared to count were about _him_. She would dream about them too. She would dream of seeing them dead all around her in that wretched mountain, amongst all that cold, useless treasure and other times they would be dead on the slopes of the mountain. Wherever they were, it didn't matter where, it was always her fault. Their blood was always on her hands because she stole their blasted stone and consorted with their enemy. They would be dead, and it was all her fault. He was always there to make sure she understood that.

Make sure she understood and that she would never forget as his hands twist cruelling within her dirt locks, forcing her to look and see what she had done, how she had betrayed them all and how she would never ever be forgiven for her crime. And then he too would die before her eyes, struck down by Azog before…

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see what always happened next, fighting back tears as her hands curled into fists as she tried to regain control over herself.

She felt a warm, strong arm wrap around her, and for a heart-beat she thought that it was him. She refused to allow herself to feel any kind of disappointment when she realised it was Bofur.

Oh Bofur. Dear Bofur, how much easier her life would have been if she had only fallen…

She shakes her head, shakes that particular thought well away from her. She couldn't think like that!

"I'm fine, Bofur. I'm sorry for waking you and the others with my silliness." She smiles widely up at him, trying not to think how comfortable she is in his arms even though she is disappointed that he isn't someone else. She really was a terrible person, just like everyone secretly thought she was. She was a completely and utterly awful person.

"Don't be silly, we're just worried about you." Bofur replied, seemingly oblivious to her inner struggles.

"Well, you needn't be, they're only nightmares, they will pass with time, like all things." Bilbo shrugged.

"You truly are too gentle and kind at heart." Bofur muttered more to himself than her.

"No, I'm not." Bilbo all but growled, sick and tired of people always saying that about her, even when they knew the truth! "I'm terrible, horrible person. You of all people should know that." Bofur looked at her blankly which only annoyed her more and she could no longer bear to be near him. She jumped out of his arms and away from him, placing her hands upon her hips as she scowled back at him.

"Lass…" He started, reaching out for her, but she moved out of his reach.

"I am. You know I am, remember what I said to you, all those years ago? In that horrid cave before we were all snatched by the goblins? What kind of gentle and kind-hearted person could say such cruel and insensitive things?!"

"You were homesick." Bofur argued back looking a little annoyed, "you had just been through an awful ordeal and been criticized for something that was no way in the slightest your fault. Thorin was truly awful to ya, lass and you needed someone to vent out. I didn't take the slightest offense that it was me that ya did vent out. In fact, it was probably for the best that it was me."

"Why are you always so nice!" Bilbo cried feeling angry tears pricking in her eyes, "I was horrible to you! I betrayed you all! You should hate me! All of you should hate me!" she would have continued screaming and woken the whole neighbourhood up in the process if weren't for Bofur once more pulling her into his arms.

"Hush now, lass, don't say such things."

"But they're true," she sniffed into his coat. Damn these tears! Why was it that every time she got angry, she started weeping?

"No, they aren't. You know they aren't." Bofur said as he rubbed her back gently, calming her ragged breathing.

"Why, why are you always so nice?" she whispered helplessly.

"I'm not always," he chuckled grimly into her hair.

Bilbo snorted in disbelief.

"Bofur, you are the kindest, gentlest, most forgiving soul I know. I can't imagine you not being nice to anyone."

"Well, I do have my moments of being a very unkind and unforgiving dwarf. Just ask the other's if you don't believe me."

Bilbo hesitated nervously as she looked up at him, her eyes asking the questions that she dared not speak out loud.

"I wasn't very forgiving towards Thorin for quite some time." Bofur said after a moment's silence. "Still not, come to think of it." Bofur added and she felt her stomach twist horribly, and she felt more tears roll down her cheeks.

"Bilbo?"

"That's not what I wanted." She sniffed miserably, "I was hoping you would all forget about me and be happy in Erebor, but now you're telling me – and what I've guessed myself – you're not. And it's all my fault."

"No, it's Thorin's fault." Bofur replied firmly. "And he knows it too." He added under his breath though Bilbo heard it nonetheless and stared at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"He doesn't say as much out loud." Bofur said gently, "but you can see it, in his face, in his eyes. He regrets…"

"Please don't…" Bilbo muttered unsure if her heart could stand to be broken any more than it already was. She gently pulled herself free from Bofur's warm, safe arms and sat miserably upon the bench.

'_So much for keeping my promise about not feeling sorry for myself_,' she thought dully as she rubbed her raw eyes.

Bofur came to crouch down in front of her, his brown eyes filled with concern and something else that Bilbo was terrified to put a name to, despite how much a part of her shattered heart wished very much to.

"I would have come back with you," he says gently and it breaks her heart a little more. He was not trying to make her feel any worse than she already was or make her feel like some kind of villain; he was simply speaking his heart as he had always done, "if I had known… I would have come back and taken care of you and Frodo. I would have made sure…"

"I know." Her heart ached as she stared back him. "I know Bofur. Thank you." More tears rolled down her cheeks. Curses! Why was she so weak? Why couldn't she be stronger, braver, and something worthy of the respect and love these dwarves showed her every day.

"I wish I could lo…" she whispered, but he placed a finger to her lips, gently silencing her.

"Please don't…" he whispered back, echoing her previous plead before lifting himself gently up and placed a careful kiss to her cheek and then her forehead.

"If I thought I stood a chance, I would have stolen you away from Thorin before he even had a chance to realise he had feelings for you."

"You stood more than a chance, Bofur." Bilbo whispered, and the dwarf smiled at sadly.

"But I missed it." he said softly, nodding his head slowly and sighing.

Bilbo opened her mouth to apologise but was once again stopped from speaking by Bofur's finger against her lips.

"It's fine Bilbo." Bofur said with a smile, "I accepted and respected yours and Thorin's feelings from the moment they started to surface, before even," he started to smirk teasingly at her, "you were both rather dense and stubborn about it all."

Bilbo childishly stuck her tongue out at him before sighing.

"Thank you." She whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, letting herself relax into his comforting embrace.

"I just want you to be happy. If I could, I would give you all the happiness in the world." He said into her hair.

"I know."

They stayed silent, content with their embrace before Bilbo pulled back.

"Bofur may I ask something of you, you're free to say no of course, but it would mean a great deal to me if you said yes." As she spoke, she couldn't help but wring her hands nervously.

Bofur nodded and waited patiently for her to continue, smiling warmly at her.

"I want – I want you to be Frodo's Godfather. I don't know if dwarves have godparents, but we – we hobbits do and it's considered bad luck for a child not to have a godparent of some kind and I have yet to name one for Frodo, officially, because… well, because there was no one in the Shire I wanted to name his Godfather because I wanted his Godfather to be you." She was babbling and starting to panic a little for Bofur was silent and seemed to be in deep thought.

"You don't have to be," she squeaked.

"I'd be honoured lass." He said softly, and Bilbo felt herself relax once more.

"Really?"

"Yes." He smiled his glories smile and she tackled him.

"You truly are the best dwarf I know, Bofur!" She said joyfully as she hugged him as tightly as she could which caused him to laugh.

"I'll remember you said that lass," he teased as she released him from her embrace and they started to head back inside her hobbit-hole.

Bilbo laughed softly as she closed her front door behind them.

"Hmmm, I'm sure you will," she chuckled, though it quickly dissolved into a yawn.

"Come, bed you." Bofur said as he placed his hands upon her shoulders and steered her down the corridor that hosted the bedrooms. They stopped when they came to her bedroom door.

"Thank you Bofur." She says and he bows his smile soft and gentle and makes her heart ache for a love that she could so easily have if she didn't still love one of the stubbornness, arrogant, selfish, prideful, distrustful, brave, loyal, honourable and loving dwarf in all of Middle-Earth.

"Good night Bilbo." He said as he kissed the top her head before starting to head for the room that Bilbo had given him to sleep during his and the others stay.

"Bofur?" She called softly as he reached his bedroom's door. He looked back at her curiously.

"I wish you all the luck and happiness in the world. I really do." He smiled widely at her.

"Same to you lass. Same to you."

Bilbo slipped back into her bedroom, her shoulders lighter while her heart felt heavier than ever.

It would be so easy to fall completely and utterly in love with Bofur. He was such an easy man to love. And yet, stupidly and irreversibly her heart belongs solely to another, another who knew not that she was alive nor felt any inclination to come and check for himself to see if she was indeed dead.

Perhaps she was being harsh, but the insufferable man was still, after four years of exile, keeping her from being truly happy because of his continued and permanent presence within her heart!

She shook her head.

It was probably for the best anyway. Bofur deserved a lass who could love him with all her heart, with her whole being, not some broken, incomplete lass still living with the nightmares of their venture.

He deserved someone far, far better than her. And when he found the lucky lass, Bilbo truly did wish for them to have all the happiness and luck in all of Middle-Earth.

She curled up in her bed, trying not to dream about the very different reality that she would be living if her heart had allowed her to fall in love with a very different dwarf to the one who still held it within the palm of his hand.

Did he really regret what had happened between them, in the moment she lost his love and trust? Did he truly miss her?

She falls into a too deep a slumber to dwell upon these questions and by the time morning came around her she had forgotten them entirely.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well that was Chapter Eleven. I very much hoped you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. This is chapter is basically feeding my love for Bofur/Bilbo. I'm almost afraid that with this chapter will have people demanding that I give up Bagginsshield and make this fic all about Bofur/Bilbo. To those who are fans of Bilbo and Bofur I was almost tempted to do so. But I can't, as much as I would love to, I can't and it breaks my heart. Are any of you disappointed that I didn't have them kiss? I admit I was tempted to make them kiss but I stopped myself and again my heart breaks over this. One day I must give into my temptation to write a Bofur/fem!Bilbo fanfic.  
By the by, I was wondering if there were any artist reading this? If there are, could I commission someone to draw a cover page for this fanfic? I'm hopeless at drawing and I really want a cover page for this fic. If there are any artist who are interested please let me know.  
Anyway, thanks for reading.


	12. The Weakness of Hearts

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait for the "real" chapter 12, have been very busy with work.  
I would like to thank all my wonderful and fantastic readers for all their supportive and beautiful comments that they wrote in response to the flame that I had received. I will admit, now, in hindsight, I feel rather silly for getting as upset as I did over the_ one_ flame, but I had received it after one of_ those_ days and I... really just needed to vent. I wasn't looking for sympathy or even any comments about what had happened, a just wanted to vent as well as explain my reasons behind writting this story, so imagine my surprise when I got over almost ninety comments in response to me venting over something a tiny as one small-minded person.  
I was and still am completely and utterly gobsmacked people. You have absolutely no idea how much all your lovely and supportive comments have meant to me. Really, I actually got a bit teary reading some of them because they were just so lovely and supportive. Really I couldn't ask for better readers.  
So thank you, thank you so much, all of you, for all your kind, supportive, encouraging words. I was never thinking of taking this fanfic down or simply stop writing it, that never even crossed my mind, but your words have made me doubly determined to make this the best fanfic that I possibly can write.

Alright I will shut up now and allow you all to read. Please enjoy Chapter Twelve: The Weakness of Hearts

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Weakness of Hearts**

The days that quickly turned into weeks passed lazily by for Bilbo and her guests. They received no more unwanted visits from unpleasant relatives. Of course most of Hobbiton knew that mad Bilbo Baggins had once more opened her hobbit-hole to dwarves but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut about it.

There were some who were braver than others and they came to visit Bag End, if only to catch a glimpse of the dwarves before running away. Some were even braver and actually met the dwarves personally.

Such braver hobbits were the Baggins's gardener Hobson 'Roper' Gamgee and his son Hamfast, already better known as 'The Gaffer' for his ability to get things done quickly and efficiently.

The Baggins were very fond on their gardeners, frequently having them around for a chat and a cup of tea.

It was they who had taken care of Bungo Baggins while Bilbo had been away on her adventure and who had kept the Sackville-Baggins out of Bag End for that period of time. They only failed in the end because the Sackville-Baggins did the underhanded thing of sticking their lawyers upon them.

They had apologized profoundly when Bilbo returned to find her things being auction off and that the Sackville-Baggins had made themselves quite a home in her hobbit-hole. They had helped in reclaiming all the items that had been auctioned off before her unexpected return.

The dwarves quickly discovered that the Gamgee's were surprisingly protective of their employers, especially The Gaffer who had spent much of their first meeting simply glaring at them before Bilbo very sweetly and gently told him to stop. Which he did promptly, going bright red around his ears as he mumble, 'yes, Miss Bilbo', before ducking his head in embarrassment. That however did not stop him from shotting the dwarves dirty looks whenever he was sure his mistress wasn't looking.

It wasn't until the Gamgee's were leaving did the dwarves discover the reason behind the hobbit's animosity towards them.

Bilbo and her father were still chatting away with Roper Gamgee when The Gaffer cornered them with a determined look in his brown eyes. He gave them a rather impressive speech, threatening them all with bodily harm from his rake and pruners if they did anything that might harm Miss Bilbo in any way, emotionally or physically and to think twice about dragging her off anywhere for he would have a word or two to say about it and would stop them from taking her away in any way he could.

He would have probably gone on, but was stopped by Bilbo walking over to them with little Frodo sitting on her hip fast asleep, her soft earthy eyes curious as she cocked her head to one side, looking from each other their faces.

"Everything alright?"

"Of course Miss Bilbo." The Gaffer replied with a cheerful smile which Bilbo returned just as warmly. "Everything is fine." The hobbit man glanced back at their chatting fathers with grin, "best get my Da home or they'll be talking all night. Good night Miss Bilbo," he nodded his head respectfully to Bilbo, "Good Night Master Dwarves," he nodded his head respectively to them too, much to their surprise after his rather long and threatening rant just moments before.

He walked over to his father and Bungo and after a few moments the two Gamgees were saying their final good night's before heading down Bag Shot lane towards their own small hobbit-hole.

"You've got yourself a fine bodyguard, Bilbo." Kili teased as they made their way back inside Bag End.

"Kili, what on earth are you talking about?" Bilbo asked with a snort as she gently set her little son down onto one of the armchairs by the fire where he immediately curled up into a ball, taking on the appearances of an odd looking cat.

"The Gaffer gave us quite an earful of interesting threats." Kili continued with a grin and Bilbo rolled her eyes.

"The Gamgees have been working for us for years and Hamfast has been a dear friend since we were youngsters," Bilbo replied with a shrug as she made her way into the kitchen.

"He was quite worried about you while you were away." Bungo offered as he sat slowly down at the kitchen table. "When he heard that you were gone, he wanted to go after you and…"

"Act like her bodyguard?" Kili and Ori asked grinning.

"Well now," Bungo said slowly, "I don't know about being a bodyguard, but he did wish to go after her, make sure she was alright. He was quite put out about you not saying goodbye to him." He added to his daughter who sighed a heavy, long suffering sigh.

"I didn't have time to say goodbye, I was already late! I had barely enough time to make all the proper arrangements with his Da to take care of Bag End and you Papa that I was unable to wait for him to return from the markets to say goodbye."

The dwarves fought hard to hide their amused grins at their hobbit's disgruntled complaints as she went about making their dinner.

This of course woke Frodo up and he came tottering into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily and his arm raised for Bofur to pick him up. The lad quickly stole the dwarf's fur hat and set it upon his head. Or over his head rather as the hat fell down to the boy's chin. But he loved it all the same even though he could not see whenever he put it on.

The little boy did not mind not being able to see. He was safe and comfortable in the arms that held him. They were so different to his mother's embrace, dwarf hugs, but they were familiar all the same.

Whenever one of his mama's dwarves lifted him up and he closed his eyes he saw huge, grey hills, glittering stones and frozen rivers that shown like sunlight as they threaded their way through heavy rock. Whenever he was in the arms of one of the dwarves he felt that he was far, far away from the rolling green hills of the Shire and to places that he knew even though he had never been to them before.

It was queer feeling and little Frodo didn't quite understand it himself but he was a very accepting child and every new mystery in his life was a new adventure.

He snuggled close to Bofur's chest, his head resting against the dwarf's shoulder, finding comfort in the familiar noise around him as he slowly fell back into the land of dreams. Most of his dreams were much like the visions he saw when he was being held by one of the dwarves, filled with large, grey hills made of rock, shiny stones and strange silver clothes that clanged as they moved.

He dreamed of many strange people and places, of dwarves and elves and great men. He dreamed of seven rings created for seven Dwarf Lords in great stone halls and of one ring, a master ring that scared him while at the same time felt familiar to him like the other seven did not.

He did not dream of rings very often, not unless he saw his mother sneak on her own magic ring, but otherwise dreams about magical rings did not bother him.

Tonight in Bofur's arms, Frodo dreamed of a single great rock hill in the middle of a great plain, a huge lake glimmering in the distance.

As he dreamed of this far off place, words from his mother's lullaby softly sang in his ear.

_What was before, we see once more_

_Our kingdom a distant light_

_Fiery mountain beneath the moon  
The words unspoken, we'll be there soon  
For home a song that echoes on  
And all who find us will know the tune_

The days were growing longer and warmer and the dwarves regretfully starting to think about the journey back to the mountain.

Kili of course had no wish to return to his uncle's kingdom preferring to remain and help take care of his cousin and he was most disgruntled when Bilbo, Bofur and Ori all spoke of how this would be a bad idea.

"How so?" He snapped angrily; hurt reflecting in his dark eyes. He held Frodo close to him on his lap while the little lad played with his braids.

"Think how Thorin will react if you don't return with us to Erebor." Bofur said patiently.

"He won't care; it'll be a weight off his mind!" Kili snapped back and Bilbo sighed heavily, hating the rift that had been driven so deeply between nephew and uncle.

"He will." Ori spoke softly, "You know he will."

Kili shot him a dirty look and the young dwarf fell silent.

"Forget about Thorin for a moment, please," Bilbo said, her heart aching as it whispers _if only I could_, "and think of your brother and mother? How would Fili feel if you did not return? Or your mother. Kili as much as I appreciate why you want to stay here, with Frodo and I, it would be best, overall, for you to return home because whether you like it or not, you are a prince and people will come looking for you."

"Can't you three," Kili said looking at his fellow dwarves desperately, "just pretend I've run off somewhere? To Gondor maybe?"

"Gondor?" Ori and Bofur yelped while Bilbo simply looked at him in confusion. Gondor? Gondor? Now where had she heard that name before? In Rivendell, maybe?

She thought for a moment longer before spluttering out

"Gondor? The greatest realm of men in the west?"

Her dwarves looked at her curiously, clearly wondering how and why their hobbit knew about the great realm of men.

She blushed and muttered, "Rivendell."

Kili rolled his eyes while Ori looked impressed and Bofur and Bifur grinned at her in amused affection for her curious mind.

"Anyway, Uncle would be less likely to try and come after me if you lot said I was in Gondor."

"I seriously doubt that." Bilbo said sceptically, "I think you would have a better chance of your uncle not coming after you if these three said you had run off to the Golden Wooden of Lothlorien. But," She added as an afterthought, "I suppose he could always swallow his pride and ask Thranduil to send someone to check and then that's that cover story blown. He would eventually get the truth out of someone as to where to you really are." _Bringing all his wrath with him, I imagine_, Bilbo thought staring down at her fingers and swallowing the painful lump in her throat.

"Uncle would never do that." Kili said defiantly, his eyes filled with stubborn certainty.

"I'm fairly certain he would."Bofur said with a smirk, obviously picturing the moment of Thorin asking the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm for help finding his nephew with great relish and amusement.

"He would." Ori seconded Bofur ignoring Kili furious gaze by as he looked intently around Bilbo's front room, taking a particular interest in the portrait of her parents that hung over the fireplace.

"Kili," Bilbo said gently, "you have to go back. You belong in Erebor, it is your home, where your family is."

"You and Frodo are my family too." The boy growled out in obvious pain, pain that Bilbo had so wanted to spare him from feeling. He shouldn't have to feel torn between two families and she refused to allow him to feel that he had to take responsibility of Frodo because his uncle wasn't around to do so. She refused to tie him to the Shire when she knew his young and adventurous spirit was still burning brightly and passionately within his soul.

"I know and as much as I would love for you to stay here with us, I cannot allow you to. Things in the Shire are very slow and little ever changes and you would find very little to do to occupy your time. You would become bored if you stayed here with nothing to do. Bored and lonely, and I have no wish for that to happen. You're too young and still too eager to see the world to settle down here in the Shire."

"S'not fair." Kili muttered miserably as he looked down at his cousin in his lap.

"Life generally isn't. But Kili, while I'm telling you to return with the others to Erebor, I'm not telling you to never come back. I want you to come back, as often as you possibly can and visit Frodo and I."

"We'll try lass," Bofur answered with nod, "as often as we can without it looking suspicious."

Bilbo smiled and stood up to hug him, Bifur and Ori and finally Kili who was still looking upset but he allowed himself to relax in Bilbo's embrace and when she drew away and resumed sitting in her favourite armchair he seemed to be a little happier.

"You'll be alright, though? Being by yourself, without us?" Kili asked softly as he ran a hand through Frodo's curls.

Bilbo smiled.

"Of course Kili. We'll be fine and we are hardly alone." Bilbo chuckled.

"Of course, your bodyguard gardener." Kili snickered causing Bilbo to throw a small cushion at him which he aggravatingly caught with one hand. The other dwarves laughed while Frodo stared up a Kili with newfound awe.

"Your mama just threw a cushion at me Frodo." Kili said to his cousin with mock horror. "That wasn't very nice, was it?"

"No." Frodo shook his head.

"And what do we do when something not nice happens to someone we care about?" Bilbo was starting to get a bad 'oh no, what have you taught my son now' feeling in her gut.

She sighed when she saw that her bad feeling had indeed been correct as her little son tried his best to scowl disapprovingly at her.

He wasn't very good at scowling yet and he had a long way to go before he had his father's infamous scowl down pat – thank goodness – but with time and practise Bilbo was sure he would have his own infamous scowl all of his own. But until then, she was fighting her hardest not to laugh at the cute little scowl on her son's face.

"Alright, alright," Bilbo sighed as she moved to Kili's side and plucked her son from his lap, "I'm sorry Kili for throwing a cushion at you." her son's scowl immediately lifted and his bright, sunlight filled smile was back. Well for a moment at least as it quickly dissolved into a yawn.

"Alright," Bilbo said as Frodo rubbed his eyes, "someone's ready for his afternoon nap." She adjusted her lad on her hip before carrying him to his bedroom.

Her lad was asleep almost the moment she finished tucking him into his cot. She leant against the railing of the cot, gently running her fingers through his dark locks.

"Bilbo?"

"Come in Kili." Kili walked carefully into the nursery, taking care not to make a sound with his heavy boots as he came to stand by her by the cot.

"He's a good sleeper." Kili commented softly.

"Yes, he's always been a good sleeper, ever since he was a babe." She smiled cheekily up at him, "he doesn't snore either." Kili gave her an affectionate nudge with his arm.

"He could with time. You might find yourself with a loud and spectacular snore in your hands in a couple of decades."

"No, I don't think anyone could be louder and more spectacular snorer than Gloin." Bilbo snorted softly causing Kili to snigger.

"Oh, yes, the moths. That was rather impressive."

"You and Fili were terrible that night."

"Were we? What did we do or say on that particular night?"

"The pair of you were winding me up about orc night raids."

"Oh yes," the dwarf prince had the decency to looked ashamed, "did we ever apologize for that?"

"No, but then you never apologized for almost getting me eaten by trolls, but as you did try to save me, I guess that calls us even."

"I wouldn't mind seeing them again."

"Hmmm?"

"The trolls. I wouldn't mind seeing their statues again."

"Funnily enough, I wouldn't mind seeing them again either. Maybe when Frodo's a bit bigger, we could take him and show them to him. Heavens knows he loves the story about them well enough." Bilbo chuckled as Kili's eyes burned with excitement and delight.

"You really mean it about wanting us to return?" Kili asked causing Bilbo to shot him a look as if questioning his sanity.

"Kili of course I do. Do you have any possible idea just how much I've missed all over you? I want you to visit as often as you can. I want you in Frodo's life so that when it comes time for him to find out who and what he truly is, it won't…" she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I'm hoping that you'll be able to help him threw it. I know I won't be able to," she sighed as she ran a finger through her son's soft curls, "knowing my luck he'll hate me and I'll have lost him forever." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"No, Bilbo, no. Frodo could never hate you. No one could ever hate you." threw her tears, Bilbo shot him a look and the dwarf prince corrected himself, "no one can ever hate you for long."

"They hate me for long enough." Bilbo said softly, her eyes becoming glazed as her mind drifted back over her darkest of days.

Kili gathered her up into his arms and hugged her close.

"I'm so silly." She sniffled into his chest, "you know, I promised myself that I was done with feeling sorry for myself and yet here I am, yet again, feeling sorry for myself."

"You're allowed to feel sorry for yourself, Bilbo." Kili reassured her gently.

"Yes, but not all the damn time." Bilbo muttered angrily. "I'm so tired of just feeling sad all the time." She rubbed her hands against her face, letting out a weak little laugh, "I am so weak."

"Hardly Bilbo." Kili said giving her shoulders the tiniest of shakes, "you're one of the strongest people I know. The strongest even! Don't ever think of yourself as being weak and you shouldn't have to feel that you have to be happy all the time; you're allowed to feel sad and sorry for yourself. You have a reason to be sad. Me? At home, I'm angry towards everyone, even my brother," he winced as he thought back on how distant he and his brother now were from each other and it was all his fault, " who has always stood by me no matter what mess I've managed to land us head first into. I'm angry all the time, lashing out at everyone. I go off on long trips by myself, just walking or sitting around in some deserted place feeling angry and sorry for myself. You don't do that, you carry on, for your son and father and for all your friends and family. You don't close in within yourself and shut out the rest of the world. You are strong Bilbo; it is us who are weak."

"Kili…"

"I mean it." Kili said softly, staring down at his little cousin, "those of the line of Durin are weak. Yes, we are great warriors and good rulers… for a time. But we're weak. Weak when it comes to the things that truly matter. We're weak when it comes to things about where our hearts truly lie. We're weak because we allow ourselves to be so easily corrupted by greed and hatred. I'm glad actually," his lips twitched into a small smile, "I'm glad that he'll grow up away from all of us. That he'll grow up with his strong, brave, smart hobbit mother who will teach him all that is right and make him become a great man. And you will. I can think of no better person to raise this little wonder than you." He smiled softly at Bilbo.

"Oh Kili." Tearing up once more she flung her arms around the young dwarf and hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

The dwarf lad - who was almost as precious to her as one of her many cousins, if not more so - smiled down at her as he returned her hug before they both returned to watching the tiny dwobbit sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. I mean, i love all the elements that are in this chapter but I don't know, maybe I'm just being picky but I'm not altogether happy with it. And no matter how much I edit and play with it I can't get it to read how I want to, but I'm the author so this might just be me knick-picking it.  
Anyway, exciting news this fanfic is over a hundred pages long... and I'm still not up to Thorin meeting Frodo yet *smacks head against computer desk*  
But I'm getting there. I'm currently writing Chapter Eighteen which is the beginning of the arc that will set in motion the events that will get Frodo and Thorin meeting. I can't WAIT! I want to write it _now_, but I got to set up stuff before I can so *pouts*.  
Anyway, with the next chapter, chapter 13 'The Road goes Ever On', our wonderful dwarves will be leaving Bag End and returning to Erebor. Master Oakenshield will be appearing in chapter fourteen and chapter fifteen... well, lets say it has a big Bilbo/Thorin flashback scene, hopefully proving that I am truly a Bagshield at heart because it's very sweet and fluffy.  
Bye for now.


	13. The Road goes Ever On

**Author's Note:** So here we finally have the chapter where the Dwarves leave the Shire after being there for about, what eight-nine chapters?

Anyway, this is a short chapter, sorry about that. But I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Road goes Ever On**

The day the dwarves chose to leave Bag End came all too quickly for them all.

The Gaffer and his Da helped the dwarves with getting all their bags and weapons tied to their ponies, while Bilbo fussed over things such as whether or not they had enough food and other necessary comforts.

"Like a handkerchief. Can't have us forgetting our handkerchiefs." Bofur teased causing the hobbit to stick her tongue out at him in response.

"I think that's about it." Ori said sounding quite sad as he looked over the well-packed ponies.

"You'll keep safe now, won't you? You won't go off looking for trouble?" Bilbo shot a particularly worried look towards Kili who was having one last game with Frodo.

"Oi!" Kili complained when he realised Bilbo was directing her comment at him as he held a squealing and laughing Frodo above his head.

"Well, it was you and Fili who lost the ponies to the Trolls." Bilbo retorted pressing her hands to her hips, her brown eyes filled with annoyance and worry for them.

"That wasn't us looking for trouble!" Kili complained as he continued to bounce Frodo up and down in his arms.

"No, you just sent the burglar head first into trouble, saying that you would be right behind me." Bilbo snorted.

"And we were… kind of. We brought the rest of the company to save you, did we not?" Kili grumbled, pouting at her. His pouting face caused his little cousin to laugh and clap his hands together.

Kili stuck his tongue at his little cousin who was now struggling to get down from his arms so as to go and investigate something or other that had caught the attention of his young and inquisitive mind.

"And that was such a brilliant and well thought out plan once you got yourselves all captured." Bilbo continued on as if she had not heard him, running her fingers lightly threw her son's curls as he tottered by her, his eyes focused solely on a butterfly with sapphire blue wings "Though I suppose that could have been said to my fault, but in the end…"

"It was you who saved us, lass." Bofur said pressing a reassuring hand upon her shoulder, "Do not worry yourself lass, we'll keep ourselves safe. We won't take any detours or any unnecessary risk, I promise ya."

"You had better keep your promise, Master Dwarf," Bilbo said, punching Bofur's arm affectionately, "for I expect to see you all next year and I will not excuse your absence just because you all happen to be altogether too dead to visit."

Kili and Ori sniggered at her words while Bofur shook his head, silently laughing.

Bifur moved forward and Bilbo spoke a few words of ancient Khuzdul which soon had the dwarf embracing her and spinning her around her garden as she squealed and laughed, crying through her laughter for him to put her down.

"Are you all ready to go then?" Bungo asked as he walked slowly out of the hobbit-hole, leaning heavily upon his cane as he did so, looking more than a little bemused by seeing his daughter being spun around by the dwarf who spoke no common tongue and had a piece of metal sticking out of his head, but Bungo made no comment and instead moved slowly to stand with the others and their ponies.

"Aye, it would seem we are." Bofur said, fighting back several emotions that were causing his heart to constrict tightly within his chest. He forced himself to ignore these emotions for the moment, though.

"Thanking you kindly Master Baggins for all your hospitality." He added with a bow that was quickly followed by Ori and Kili.

"Well," the old hobbit looked quite embarrassed as well as pleased, "well now, you are very welcome. I should - I should actually be thanking you as well, Master Dwarves." Bungo said seriously while the dwarves looked back at him in confusion and curiosity.

"Thank you," Bungo took a deep breath, determined to finish his sentence, "thank you for – for making my – my daughter smile again. It's been too – too long since I've – seen her smile."

The dwarves felt their faces turn red and shuffled their feet.

"Papa," Bilbo said laughing, her eyes wide and sparkling, "what in all of Middle-Earth did you say to put them into this state?" she teased as she looped arms with her father, a loving gesture that also gave her father an extra bit of support to keep him up right.

"Ah, dear one, that – that is for me to know…"

"And for me to always wonder?"

"Yes," Bungo said with a smile, "something like that."

Bilbo fought to keep her smile wide and happy as she watched the dwarves strap on the final pieces of their belongings on to their ponies.

She wouldn't cry! She refused to cry!

"Kee?" Frodo was once more following the dwarves around with a confused and worried expression on his young face.

"Kee going?" the boy's bottom lip trembled.

"Only for a little while?" KIli assured his cousin as he lifted him up into his arms, "I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"romise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"I hope not." Bilbo replied softly reaching out to take her son from Kili, her little boy looking close to tears.

"Safe journey." Gaffer Gamgee said as he held a particularly frisky pony still so that Ori could mount it.

"Easy Petal." Ori said before giving a Gaffer Gamgee an appreciative grin. "Thank you."

Bilbo fought back tears as she watched the rest of the dwarves mount their ponies.

"See you soon." Bofur promised from atop of his pony.

"You had better," Bilbo said as she gently pressed hand to her nose in a vain attempt to keep herself from crying. Frodo was already sniffling against her shoulder, his little arms tightening around her neck.

"Goodbye."

"Farewell."

"Safe Journey.

"Be safe. Please Mahal keep them safe." Bilbo whispered as she lifted her arm in farewell as she watched the four ponies break into a trot down Bagshot Row, their riders twisting in their saddles to wave back in return.

"Keep them safe so they can one day return to me."

_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began_

_Now far ahead the road has gone_

_And I must follow, if I can_

* * *

**Author's Note: **So the dwarves have finally leave the Shire and are returning to Erebor.  
A bit a trivia about this chapter is that it was written before _The Weakness of Hearts_. I was having a lot of trouble with writing _The Weakness of Hearts_, it was only when I threw in the final scene with Kili and Bilbo that I became sort of happy with it. However as you noticed this chapter as well as the last chapter both have Kili and Bilbo talking about the Trolls. And even though I had Bilbo more or less saying that she had forgiven Kili for the whole incident with the Trolls in the last chapter, I liked this chapter too much to change it. So basically Bilbo isn't holding a grudge against Kili about the Troll incident, she's just teasing him and worrying that he might go off and do something reckless simply because he is young and is naturally reckless and is trying to remind him that by being reckless he can put those he cares about in danger.  
Anyway, that's the bit of Trivia - not that its really trivia at all - for this chapter and the last.

The next chapter will be taking place in Erebor which means Thorin and few more members of the complany will be making an appearence. YAY!  
I'll try and update more quickly with chapter fourteen and the rest. I'm currently writing Chapter Twenty, which is being both enjoyable and a hardship to write due to me writing it from a completely new POV of a character of my own creation. I'm discovering its alot harder than I was expecting to getting Frodo meeting Thorin and so on. But I'll figure it out, it's just the flow. I know what I want to happen, I just need to get it down on my laptop and written with the correct flow to it.

Anyway, I'll shut up and go on with writing chapter twenty.  
Next Chapter: Chapter Fourteen - For Home a Song that Echoes On


	14. For Home a Song that Echoes On

**Chapter Fourteen**

**For Home a Song that Echoes On**

The return trip to Erebor was, to say the very least about it, boring and uneventful. That is, that was how it appeared to be from Kili's point of view. Especially once the four dwarves had once more joined up with their travelling party in Ered Luin. Once they might have enjoyed returning to their home away from home or in Kili's and Ori's cases the only home they had known before the reclaiming of Erebor. But now it meant very little to them and they spent a total of two weeks there before the leader of their company said that it was high time for them to return home.

Their companions all sent them strange and questioning looks but wisely kept their mouths shut, knowing full well that the four dwarves would never reveal what they had been doing for the past month and a half, no matter how much they might pester them. There were some, however, who believed it would be wise to inform their king once they had returned to Erebor of his youngest nephew sudden and unexplained disappearance along with three other members of his old company.

Their king would get the truth out of the young prince or from the other three that was for sure. Until then they would keep their mouths shut and returned to the Lonely Mountain by the shortest, safest route they could take through the Misty Mountains with their many carts and wagons.

It was safe and in Kili's mind, quite a boring return trip and they troupe returned to Erebor in record time.

Kili, predictably, disappeared the moment the party was inside Erebor's great doors, leaving his three companions to face his uncle, brother and the rest of their company without him.

"Donna runner, has he?" Dwalin snorted once he had located the three dwarves and was leading them and few other higher members of the party towards the throne room while the rest of the party went about unloading the carts and wagons.

"Aye, something like that." Bofur replied with a wide and cheerful grin. This seemed to catch Dwalin off-guard, for Thorin's Right-Hand man and Head of his Guard blinked at the miner slash toymaker in surprised confusion before shrugging his massive shoulders and continued to lead the way to the throne room.

Erebor's throne room was a huge and magnificent cavern, with the ancient dwarven kings of old carved into the rich emerald green rock, streams gold of thread through their great beards and armour. The great throne stood beneath a huge pinnacle of emerald rock with rivers of gold cascading down and around it.

Above the head of the throne was the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain, set in a setting of gold than did nothing to diminish the stone great beauty.

Pacing in front of the throne was Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain. In all the years that Thorin had been King, Bofur could count on maybe two hands the times he had actually seen his king sit in the grand throne.

Granted, Bofur wasn't often invited into the throne room all that often but he suspected that his King didn't spend a great deal of time sitting in his throne. He was too used to being on the move to sit ideally by in a throne for hours on end.

The only times Bofur readily knew his King would sit in his throne for hours on end were the times the pointy-eared stick-in-the-muds came to visit. The rest of the time he was either pacing in front of it or took his audience to his private study or to the War room.

"Successful trip?" Thorin asked the leader of their party an old and well-respected dwarf with a dark grey beard known as Frar, as he stopped mid-pace in front of the small party.

"Very well. Very well indeed." Frar replied with a wide grin, showing off his multiple gold teeth.

Thorin nodded his head sharply, his dark blues eyes searching over the party, taking in all the faces whom were present.

"My nephew?" he asked with a long suffering sigh.

"Donna a runner." Dwalin answered with a chuckle for Frar had turned speechless at the question. As good and talented a trader Frar was, he was not at all suited for keeping his King's youngest nephew insight and in check.

"No, he hasn't!" A younger voice rang out around the great cavern and all who stood in front of the grand throne now heard the squabbling of two youngsters.

A very satisfied looking Prince Fili walked into the royal cavern from one of its multiple entrances dragging along with him his rather disgruntled looking younger brother, still dressed in his travelling clothes.

"Getting slack Kee." Fili was saying as he pulled his brother towards the group by the great throne.

"Am not!" Kili replied childishly back, "I just wasn't trying is all! Hello Uncle"

Bofur watched as Thorin blinked repeatedly at his youngest nephew before his face took on a suspicious nature.

Of course this sort of reaction from Thorin was to be expected. Kili had not said so much as a pleasant word to his uncle in years, so for the boy to suddenly greet him with a wide and friendly grin was sure to get Thorin suspicious nature raising its head. But still, he didn't let it stop him from replying to his nephew's surprising greeting.

"Hello Nephew… where have you been?"

"Thought you would know, Uncle?" the boy replied innocently, his brown eyes wide, "with the trading party, of course? Or do you mean right now? Off to see Mother, of course. Would have gotten there if this big lug hadn't jumped me!" He gave his elder brother a playful shove which caused his brother to also look at him in surprise before he shoved him, almost instinctually, back.

There would have probably been a full-out shoving war between the two brothers if Thorin hadn't called them in to order.

"Alright, alright, knock it off the pair of you before you send yourselves off the side of this bridge."

The boys immediately calmed their game but Bofur still noted that elbows were still moving between the boys, seeking out ribs.

The rest of the trading report was quite boring and Bofur honestly wished that Thorin had order the meeting to be held in his study where they could have all sat down instead of being forced to stand for hours on end after a long trip.

He was almost dropping off to sleep before Thorin called the meeting over and for them to go and get some rest.

Bofur dragged his weary cousin and the young scribe – who was all but asleep on his feet – out of the throne room.

He returned Ori to his elder brothers who made a great fuss over him before continuing on his way down to his own chambers that he shared with his cousin, his brother and his brother's steadily growing family – by dwarf standards, it was considered to be quite large but compared to just how large he seen and heard a hobbit family could grown, it was really small in comparison.

"Unka Bofur!" He was tackled the moment he walked in the front door by his two eldest nephews. The youngest of the two, Bofur realised a little sadly was only a few months younger than Frodo.

"Hello you two?" he said as he lifted his the two boys up into his arms, amazed by how much they had both grown in the months that he and Bifur had been away. "Been good?"

"Ye-ah! Presents?"

"Oh no, neither of you deserve any present from yah Uncle Bofur."

"Hello Eir." Bofur greeted his pregnant sister-in-law with a smile as he set his nephews over his shoulder, threatening to toss the eldest completely over it and into Bifur's outstretched and waiting arms.

His sister-in-law gave him an exasperated look before pressing a quick kiss to his and Bifur's cheeks, before clucking her tongue at her sons as they squirmed and giggled on their uncle's shoulders.

"Good trip?" Eir asked as she unloaded her sons from Bofur's shoulders and sent them off to wash their grubby paws.

"Rather. Bombur still in the kitchens?"

"Oh, he's in the kitchen alright but ours rather than the royal un. The King was kind enough to give him the night off when we heard ya would be arriving shortly." Eir replied as she bustled in the direction of the kitchen, motioning for the two travel-weary dwarves to hurry it along.

"Brother! Cousin!" The two dwarves braced themselves as the large red-headed dwarf barrelled out of the kitchen and into them.

"Are you both well? You look well. What was the weather like? Was it good?"

"Bombur!" Eir cried, "Let 'em breath for Mahal's sake!"

"Oh… yes." Bombur said and let go of his older brother and cousin.

"Hello Bombur." Bofur said as he punched his younger brother affectingly in his beefy arms. "What's for dinner?"

"Well…" and the large dwarf was off describing the many meals he had cooked in celebration of their return. The two dwarflings lads were back by the time their father had started describing the second course.

"Dammit Bombur!" Bofur groaned as his stomach rumbled loudly. His brother laughed and slapped on the back before ushering his family into the dining room.

Bofur smiled. It was good to be home.

His mind flickered briefly to Bilbo and Frodo and wished that they too could be here but with a sad little sigh he pushed them from his thoughts. Because when he thought of them, thought of why they weren't here, his rediscovered happiness started to slip away again and the darkness threaten to invade his mind once more.

Soon, he promises himself, soon we will all be together again and this will truly be home.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So Thorin has finally made an appearence since chapter three. This was really just a filler chapter.

Next Chapter: Chapter Fifteen - A Light from the Shadow Shall Spring


	15. A Light from the Shadow Shall Spring

**Author's Note:** In celebration of my finally owning The Hobbit on DVD (I'm watching it right now 'giggles like a idiot'), I give you Chapter Fifteen - _A Light from the Shadow Shall Spring_.  
I quite love this chapter, it has the first real Thorin/Bilbo scene in this story. Yes, its just a flash-back but it's cute and I love it. But I'll shut up and allow for you all to read it for yourselves.

Please enjoy

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

**A Light from the Shadow Shall Spring**

"Alright you might as well tell me know where you lot snuck off to." Kili looked up from the book that Ori was showing him to stare at his older brother who was leaning against the doorway of Ori's private office at the back of the huge national library of Erebor.

"Pardon, brother?" Kili asked innocently, kicking Ori under the table to try and stop his friend from looking so guilty.

Ori winced before quickly slamming the book the two lads have been so completely absorbed in that they had failed to hear Fili entering room shut.

Fili rolled his eyes and strode into the room, noting as he did so the swiftness of Ori's movements to place the large and rather ancient looking book underneath his desk, the lad's face still holding a hint of guilt to it. But for the moment Fili chose to ignore it, he had more important issues to deal with, issues that had his brother's name written all over it.

"One of the members of your company has just informed Uncle that you two, along with Bofur and Bifur, disappeared for almost two months on the way to Ered Luin."

"And I suppose Uncle isn't very happy about this, correct?" Kili asked still trying to look innocent while Ori had all but given up looking at Fili and was now staring intently down at his desk, tracing the lines and patterns in the timber's surface.

"Not particularly. Not when the main reason he let you go with the trading party was for you to have better understanding…"

"Of how trading works between two kingdoms." Kili interrupted him with exasperated hand motions. "I know how it works, Fili! I've known how it's worked since I was in my sixties. I buy something off Ori, Ori buys something of equal value off me. I give you… the meaning of trade!"

Ori and Fili glanced at each other before both took deep breaths in. Sometimes there was simply no point trying to correct Kili. And he had been… mostly right.

"Alright, even with that said, Uncle is still annoyed…"

"When isn't he annoyed at me… ouch." Kili glared at his friend before glancing back to his brother, "just how annoyed is he at me, this time?"

"Depends on what excuse you come up with this time. But it's not just you he's annoyed with." Fili said glancing over at Ori who let out a nervous little squeak.

"It's my fault!" Kili said automatically, mischievous grin now gone and his dark brown eyes sombre. "He can't get mad at them, not when it's my fault."

"Look," Fili said slowly pressing a hand to his brow, "just come with me now to see him and we'll sort this out. Honestly what is the worse he can seriously do to you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Kili said with dark air about him and Fili saw his angry little brother of the past few years start to return, "I can think of something…" he grunted as Ori elbowed him, hard, in the ribs.

"Fine!" Kili said throwing up his arms and just like that, he was once more looking like the little brother whom Fili used to carry about on his shoulders. There was still a darkness to his eyes that Fili was sure would never truly leave them but since he and the others had returned from their trip just a few days prior almost everyone had noticed a change in them.

Bofur was smiling and whistling again, Bifur was far more coherent, Ori was once more the chatty lad he had been before their adventure and Kili. Well, Kili was once more acting like his old self again.

He walked about Erebor with less anger about him than he had since the early days of reclaiming their old kingdom. The fact that he hadn't disappeared the moment of his return was hope enough for Fili that his brother was finally, finally overcoming his grief and anger towards what had happen between their Uncle and… and their burglar.

Fili still couldn't think of her without feeling some kind of mixed feelings. But all those feelings aside, he missed her too, just as much as his little brother even if he showed it less.

"Come let's go see Uncle." Kili said swinging his arms and grinning mischievously at his brother while poor Ori dragged himself after the younger prince.

Fili watched the two for a moment before following them. He was just as mystified as everyone else by the sudden change in the four dwarves. Which was why, Fili was sure; Thorin would go lightly on them about their unexplained disappearance from the trading party.

That is, just as long as Kili didn't make up some long-winded and highly improbable story, the four of them should get off with nothing more than a few sharp words of warning about never doing something like this again, they would be fine. If Kili could just keep his mouth shut… Fili didn't hold out all that much hope.

Thorin was waiting for them in his private study, peering over some old maps with Balin and Dwalin.

"You found them quickly." His uncle said as the three young dwarves entered the room.

"Library." Fili replied simply.

Thorin gave him a funny look before turning his gaze upon Kili who was looking around the study with an almost bored expression on his face. Ori was once again inspecting his feet.

A few moments passed in an awkward silence before the rest of their old company joined them in the study.

"What's all this than?" Gloin asked flopping into one of the chairs around the room.

"Nothing more than an explanation as to where these four disappeared off to for a month and half." Thorin replied calmly though his gaze on the four dwarves had a hint of steel to it. Bifur grunted something to Bofur who murmur something back to him. The older dwarf twitched uncomfortably and looked terribly bothered about something Fili noticed and wonder to himself what could have possibly have upset the mentally damaged dwarf enough to make his cousin fuss over him in an attempt to keep him from going berserk on them all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fili saw that his uncle had too noticed the change in Bifur and was frowning slightly at him.

"ORI!"Fili was distracted from the Bifur and Bofur due to the exasperated cries of Dori. Ori mumbled something that sounded like sorry but it was hard to tell for the lad was still staring intently down at his boots. This did nothing to deter his eldest brother who had started to fret and fuss over the matter, wring his hands nervously before muttering something that sounded very much like "this is all Nori's fault!" which of course caused the middle Ri brother to give a cry of "OI!" and suddenly though probably not unexpectedly the room was filled with shouting dwarves.

Fili glanced over at his uncle who was standing by his desk and looking around at their companions with a mixed expression of amusement and complete exasperation.

"_Shazara!_" Thorin finally belted out after several minutes of incoherent yelling.

"Right, sorry." Several shamed-faced dwarves muttered as they fell respectively silent for their King.

"Right now that we've gotten that out of our systems, may we please return to the matter at hand?" Thorin gave everyone in the room a hard look before turning his full attention on the four directly in front of him.

"So which one of you is going to be giving the reasons – or excuses – behind your sudden disappearing act when you were all meant to go Ered Luin to help with the trade agreements."

"Well…" Bofur started slowly before Kili, predictably, interrupted him

"It's my fault."

"Aye, figured that much out ourselves lad." Dwalin snorted out with amusement. Kili grinned back at the head of his uncle's guard before turning his full attention back onto his uncle who despite thinking the very same thing only moments before was giving him a sceptical look, if only because at the moment his nephew openly admitted his guilt over the groups disappearing act he had seen a strange look pass across Bofur's face which had made him start to think otherwise. But for the moment, he would let it slide until he had a moment of peace and quiet to slowly and carefully dissect everything that occurred in this meeting.

"Nephew." He said and waved a hand for his nephew to proceed.

"I just wanted to see the trolls…"

That short explanation caused a very long pause.

"You-you _what_?"

"The trolls," Kili said speaking very, _very_ slowly and carefully as if he was speaking to very young dwarflings, "as in _our_ trolls. The three monstrous trolls that tried to eat us."

"And argued until day break about whether to cook us by turning us on a spit or to sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly!" Ori added and for some bizarre reason that Thorin (nor anyone else in his company – san maybe the two standing by the lads) for the life of him could not fathom, the lads seemed to find this to be incredibly amusing.

"I think the pair of ya's have finally lost it." Gloin rumpled looking at the two giggling lads, clearly questioning their sanity.

"Did you find them?" Balin asked once the two lads had calmed down enough to talk coherently once more.

"Ah… eventually." Kili said with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Let me see if I got this straight." Thorin started closing his eyes to his grinning nephew's face, "You left your set task of being present during an important trade proceedings between Erebor and Ered Luin to go hunting for trolls? Stone trolls at that." He finished, pinching his nose.

"Had to check that they hadn't turned back." Kili replied innocently.

"Of course ya did." Several dwarves snorted while Thorin simply shook his head and Fili fought to keep himself from grinning to widely.

"And you three?" Thorin questioned the dwarves.

"They came to…"

"Make sure the laddie didn't get himself kill." Bofur finished causing a number of dwarves to chuckle under their breaths while Kili shot a mock hurt look at Bofur.

"And thought nothing of letting others know what was happening?" Thorin continued but honestly, he didn't know why he was even bothering. He knew now that they had been doing more than searching for those damn stone trolls. They knew or at least Bofur, Bifur and Ori knew that he knew that they had been up to more than searching for those damn stone trolls, so why he was even continuing to bother with this questioning session – beyond the sheer amusement value of it – was quite beyond him.

He leant back against his desk listening to his youngest nephew ramble on and on about an adventure that the four quite obviously did not experience but allowed him to do so, as it was rather amusing and it had been a long, long - far too long indeed - time since any of them had seen him so animated about… well, anything.

So they simply allowed him to tell his epic adventure with amused grins and knowing looks. The truth of where the four had really been would come out eventually but for now Thorin and his company were simply content to have the four acting much like their old selves again.

"Where do you believe they actually went?" Dwalin asked once the rest of their company had left the King's study to go about their daily lives.

Thorin simply shook his head.

"Once maybe I could have guessed but now? Kili has itchy feet at the best of time and I can understand why the other three would have followed him, even blindly, when the itch got bad enough for him to want to wander off. One day he may out grow it…" Though Thorin very much doubted this. His nephew was far too at home not being _at_ home, walking under the stars and seeing the different lands of Middle-Earth.

It pained Thorin to know his nephew was more comfortable travelling freely under the sun and moon than he was staying with his family, here, safe from all harms the world had to offer. But being out there, in the wildness of the world seem to make his nephew happy, not here, in the mountain with his people.

"One day we will discover the truth of where the four of them truly went but until that day let us stand by their story." Balin said a merry twinkle in his old eyes.

"You've gone soft, brother." Dwalin said with a bark of laughter as he slapped his older brother across his wide shoulders.

"Maybe soft around my middle, I'll grant you but my mind and temper are as sharp as ever. Which is more than I can say for you." Balin replied serenely.

"What was that?"

"However, your temper I greatly doubt will ever grow blunt." Balin added with a wink to Thorin who fought back a grin as he watched the two brothers, and his oldest friends, argue their way out of his study.

It seemed that all brotherly bonds were finally mending after being so long put under strain. His nephews were back to their old mischief and Bofur and Bombur were once more squabbling, mainly over Bombur's diet or lack of and the Ri brothers seemed to be, at the moment at least, not treading on each other's toes. It seemed all was well within his old company once more. He wasn't sure how or even why this had happened. Maybe the trip away had reminded the four of how much they missed their brothers and family and so having now returned, they were now determined to mend broken fences.

The thought cheered him greatly even if the why still nagged him at the back of his mind. Why now? Was it the trip, being away from home for so many months? Or was it…. something else?

_Three monstrous trolls._

Now why was that bothering him as well? It wasn't so much that his nephew was implying that he and the other three had spent a month and a half searching for three stone trolls that had once tried to eat them but didn't because of… well, never mind that, it was more of how he talked about them. Both him and Ori, the way the two lads had described the Trolls had almost been like they were telling a story.

Telling a story…

He closed his eyes as he remembered someone precious who had loved to tell stories. Three monstrous trolls. That had been _her_ term for them when she had been telling the children of Laketown that particular section of their tale.

Had the lads been thinking of her when they had been telling their fable about searching for the trolls? Or had they simply heard the tale often enough from her that they automatically recited her words whenever they spoke of the trolls?

Whatever the reason was, their words were stirring old memories within his heart. Old and dear and at most times banished to far reaches of his mind for they were simply too painful to think of.

But it was too late to do that this time, too late to banish the memories of her. So instead, he simply slides into his chair; eyes closed and allowed himself this moment to remember.

_Laketown – five years ago_

"And there I was, at the mercy of three monstrous trolls!" Thorin turned his head curiously in the direction of his burglar's voice coming from somewhere outside the house the old Mayor of Laketown had been kind enough to give them for the duration of their stay.

Thorin strode out of the front door of the house and into one of the courtyards that opened out into one of the town's streets.

He quickly spot the company's burglar sitting on a bench near the side of the house, underneath a tree, with a number of human children sitting around on the grass in front of her, all sitting with their backs straight and heads turn towards her in full attention to what she was saying.

"… whether it be turned on a spit or whether they should sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly."

Thorin lent against the stone wall of the house, arms crossed and fighting back a grin as he listened in amusement as the human youngsters gasped in horror and shock, some even reaching for their neighbour and hugging themselves close.

Bilbo smiled down at them all, her eyes glowing as she continued her tale.

"They spent so much time arguing the wither-tos and why-fors, that the Sun's first light cracked over the top of the trees – Poof!" The children all jumped and gasped as Bilbo waved her hands about dramatically. "And turned them all to stone!"

The human children laughed and cheered, clapping their hands as Bilbo hopped up on the bench and gave a few bows.

"Now off you go all of you, your parents are quite likely wondering where you are. I'm sure it's quite close to your tea time." Bilbo said hands on her hips and looking in Thorin's mind at least, quite like a mother.

_Aunt_, his mind said quickly shoving the thought of Bilbo being a mother out of his mind forcibly. _She looks altogether like an aunt! Not a mother, an aunt_.

There was a chorus of awww's from the children before they started to unsurprisingly plead for just one more story, just one.

"No, sorry. Off you all go." Bilbo said wagging her finger at them.

"Could we come by tomorrow then maybe?" a young lad whom Thorin grudgingly noted was quite close to his own height even though the lad could only be of thirteen years of age.

"Oooh, yes," the other children cried clasping their hands out in front of them, "Oooh, please say yes Miss Baggins, please. Please say yes."

Bilbo seemed to be thinking over this carefully though Thorin could see while the children could not, that this was all theatrics. The hand on her hip, a finger pressed to her chin thoughtfully as she tapped one of her large feet against the bench's stone surface, was all theatrics to stir and tease the human youngsters.

"Well," Bilbo drawled out slowly, not looking at the begging children standing around her but up at the clear sky above them, throwing colours of deep orange and purple as the day sunk into evening, "let me think…."

"Oh, please, Miss Baggins, please…" the children clambered as one, some bouncing up and down in the agitation and desperations.

"Oh alright, if I must." Bilbo sighed dramatically and the children were once more cheering and dancing around.

"But only," Bilbo started raising her voice over the children's cheers, "only if you all go straight home now and do everything your parents ask of you this evening, and by that I mean, you wash your hands and come to the table for your dinner the first time you Ma asks you, along with going straight to bed at bedtime. If you do all that, then tomorrow I will tell you another story. Do you all promise."

"We promise. We promise."

"Alright then, off you go. See tomorrow." Bilbo said grinning as she waved after the children who were all running from the courtyard laughing and singing.

"If only we had you around when Kili and Fili were dwarflings." Thorin called to her as she hopped down from the stone bench. He had obviously caught her by surprise because she quickly lost her balance and stumbled causing for him to move forward and catch her before she fell.

"And you lot all say I need a bell." She said as a way of greeting as she brushed down her new clothes – the clothes of a eight year old noble girl Thorin remembered as he watched for a brief moment her dusting down before clearing his throat and looking quickly away. While the clothes fitted her fine in length, the fabric was straining some around her chest area and hips. He had never realised just how curvy the hobbit was until they had arrived in Laketown and she had more or less been forced into wearing dresses, as it was considered most undignified for a woman of her age – all of forty he thought somewhat grouchily. She was still just a babe in dwarrow years – to be walking about in tunics, waistcoats and trousers. The hobbit had been less than thrilled to be once more forced into wearing dresses again – it had be long, hard fought battle in the Shire for her to wear whatever she wished – but she was gritting her teeth and keeping her mouth shut about it. For their quest sake and for his sake. Though neither the sake of their quest or him had stopped her from threatening to beat them all bloody with her letter opener if they so much as breathed a word about her new clothing situation.

She had already beaten Kili over the head with her letter opener on the first day she had worn a dress after he had, rather stupidly exclaimed that she "looked like a girl!" to which she rather crossly replied "that's because I am one, you half-wit!" before smacking him over the head with the flat side of her little blade and marched smartly out of their dining room.

"You do need one." Thorin replied as he set her straight and stepped back to a respectful distance ignoring the fact that she was rolling her eyes at him.

"I wore one remember. I almost scared Oin half to death."

"He doesn't count," Thorin replied lightly, "he's already deaf."

"What about Gloin then? Mister I-have-the-eyes-of-a-hawk-and-the-ears-of-a-fox?" the hobbit asked dryly and Thorin fought back a grin.

"You are never going to allow him to live that down are you?"

"Not on his life." She replied with a one of her sun filled, mischievous grins, her earthy brown eyes sparkling merrily. Thorin wonder to himself if it were possible to drown in such pure and loving happiness, for she was seemly brimming with it and Thorin seemly wished to remain in her warm presence forever.

_Then forget this quest, forget the mountain, the gold and your revenge. Forget it all and be with her. Be with her and be forever happy_. A voice that sounded surprisingly like his grandfather whispered softly in his ear.

He shook his head, clearing the voice from his mind, though the words sank into his heart with a sense of longing for a simple future that this offer promised.

Clearing his throat again, he changed the subject.

"You left out your part with the Trolls." He commented as they started walking around the courtyard towards the large and beautiful garden growing along the other side of the house.

"No I didn't." she replied, stretching her arms above her head as if she was reaching out to grasp the last rays of warmth from the setting sun. "You just missed the beginning of the story where I got caught and you lot had to come and save me."

"That wasn't…" Thorin sighed heavily feeling her brown eyes boring into him.

"That wasn't what I was referring to." He continued quietly. "I was referring to how you were the only one of us who thought to push for time. Only you thought of different ways to stall those damn creatures."

"Oh well, I was thinking of you lot when I edited out all that." Bilbo admitted her round cheeks flushed with pleasure at his rather badly spoken compliment.

"Oh?"

"Well, I hardly think any of you would appreciate the little ones reciting to their parents and everyone else in Laketown too for that matter that one of the ways I stalled the three monstrous trolls from eating you all was by telling them that you were all infected with parasites. Wouldn't really send the right message to all the big folk here now would it? Even if it isn't true and it was only said to try and save your lives."

Thorin simply shook his head bemused that she had actually thought all that through. She was probably right – she was almost always right he was discovering, not that he was going to admit that to her, at least not any time soon.

"Thank you." was all he could think to say not that he needed to say much more for she was once more sending him that glorious smile of hers.

He quickly found himself once more fighting the desire to kiss her. It was quite a common desire of late but he had to take care for whenever he gave into it so as to not startle her. The hobbit was quite inexperienced in almost all things related to courting – despite the fact that she had run away to join this quest on the very day she was meant to be married – and so he needed to take great care in not scaring her with anything she wasn't expecting.

"You are very good with them." He said after a few moments of companionable silence. She let out a cheerful little laugh that did funny things to his heart such as causing it to soar in his chest and flutter about like a bird. It was all quite ridiculous really what this tiny slip of woman could do to him.

"Lots and lots of practise." She chuckled fondly. "I do have a lot of cousins remember." She beamed as she always did whenever she spoke of her many, many little cousins still safely tucked away in the Shire.

"And you love them all dearly."

"With all my heart." She agreed with a softer smile as she gaze in the direction of Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains. In the direction of her home, his heart thinks with a sting, the place where she belongs…

"If I could have gotten away with it I'd have several of my own by now." Her voice brings him back to reality.

"Pardon?" He asks and is amused to watch her dimples turn a brilliant ruby red.

She ducked her head shyly, staring intently down at her bare, curly feet.

"Bilbo." He says stopping in the middle of the garden path, gently catching hold of her arm and tried to coax her to look at him. "Bilbo." Still no luck. "Billanna." She peeks up at him from under her golden brown curls. Third time was the charm. The use of her birth name also probably helped too.

"Now," he said as he caught hold of her chin gently but firmly within his grasp and turning her head up towards his, "what did you mean."

"Nothing." She mumbled her blush intensifying.

"Billanna…" the hobbit sighed in exasperation.

"Fine." She finally grouched out, "All I meant was that if I could have had children, without all the hassle of being married, I would have done so already…"

"Ah…"

"Yes, see even among dwarves that kind of thinking is frowned upon." She huffed crankily, pulling her chin free of his hand and crossing her arms defensively across her chest. "I can't adopt or even foster one of my little cousins without someone throwing a fit over my not being married. As if being married has anything to do with being able to raise a child properly."

"It does help, I have heard." Thorin replied rather dumbly. He wasn't good with these types of conversations; Bofur, Balin and Dori were the dwarves who would know best of what to say to the hobbit. Mahal, even his nephews and young Ori had better ideas of what to say and what not to say when dealing with his, that is, their burglar.

Yes, he had grown better at talking with the hobbit lass since their time together sitting in the cells under the palace of the damn elvenking trying to figure out a means of escaping but even so, his conversation skills were still much to be desired.

"My father raised me just fine." Bilbo snapped hot in reply. "And Fili and Kili seem no worse for wear being raised by your sister and you. Or Ori being raised by Dori. Or…"

"Billanna…" the hobbit stopped short in her rant to look up at him her cheeks exploding with colour once more as she ducked her head.

"Sorry, you must think me very silly or…" she trailed off with squeak as he pulled her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. It felt better than he would ever openly admit to have her in his arms like this. Better if they were… he didn't allow himself to finish that particular thought.

"Never," he said into her curls, "apologize for speaking your hearts truths with me. I do not find you silly for your wishes. I think I can even understand them a little."

"Really?"

"A little. I know from watching the struggles my sister faced once she lost Fili and Kili's father that life as a woman can be far more challenging when dealing with things that for man would be as simple as beating a hammer onto an anvil."

"My life would have been much simpler if I had been born a lad." Bilbo replied with a sigh, her fingers lightly tracing the silver beads in his hair and beard, "there would certainly be no talk of me having to marry because I can't possibly take care of family affairs once Papa passes on because I am a simple hobbit lass whose only goal in life is to look pretty, get married and produce lots of little hobbit children." Thorin lips twitched as he fought back laugh at the high-pitch and slight nasal tone the lass had taken to using as she finished her sentence obviously mimicking one of her many stuck up aunts.

"Is that what you were told?"

"After my Mama died? Yes, all the time. Not so much from my Took and Brandybuck relatives but from my aunts on my father side?" Bilbo snorted, "They were worried too. Constantly even, that no one would want to."

"Marry you?"

"Yes. I was quite wild when I was younger," Thorin gave her a look which she returned with a very dry one of her own, "alright, younger than I am now, happy? Anyway, I was quite wild during my fauntling and teens years and not the tiniest bit interested in being a proper hobbit lady of my station."

"You sound like my sister," Thorin chuckled, "go on."

"Yes, well I was wild, running all over the Shire, searching for adventures and what not. Of course that all changed once Papa grew ill and I had to take care of him. All my aunts on his side of the family were pleased because I had finally calmed down enough to make me appear respectable enough for marriage only…"

"You have no wish to marry."

"None what so ever." Bilbo agreed, "And Papa backed me up on this, for the most part. Only with him getting weaker and weaker, I guess…" she trailed off with a sigh before shrugging. "Not that any of that matters now." She smiled up at him, "Not with me here with all of you, on the other side of the Misty Mountains."

Thorin stared at her for a moment before letting out a small chuckle.

"Nothing keeps you sad or disheartened for long, does it?"

"Hmmm, no, not really." She smiled serenely as she shook her head. It was more than Thorin could bear. He bent down and caught her smiling lips with his. He felt her grow tense in his arms for a moment before relaxing into his kiss.

"Uncle! Bilbo! DINNER!"

Thorin groaned in annoyance at his nephew's ill timing while Bilbo giggled sheepishly in his arms.

"Come, story-telling is hungry work." Bilbo said as she slipped easily out of his arms and Thorin immediately missed her presences in them.

"One day…" he growled under his breath causing the hobbit lass to giggle so more.

"Come O' Great King our dinner awaits." She said as she caught his arm in her much, much smaller one and started pulling him towards one of the entrances to the house.

_One day_, he thought as he allowed himself to be pulled along by his burglar. One day he would get his burglar completely alone in a room with a big bed, a locked door between them and the rest of the world, with his nephews – and the rest of their companions too – being far, far away.

He smiled at the thought as he and his hobbit strolled into the dining room, Bilbo almost skipping in front of him before she was bombarded by his nephews and young Ori who dragged her off to the opposite end of the table to where he sat – he was going to have a word or two to his nephews about that for he was sure that they were only doing this to vex him – chattering a mile a minute.

His annoyance however faded when she shot him an amused slash apologetic smile over her shoulder as she allowed herself to be pulled along by his nephews.

It was amazing how just one of her smiles could make all the bad and terrible feelings inside of him simply disappear.

At least for a time…

Thorin stirred from his peaceful slumber at the nagging ache in his neck and back.

He sat up slowly in his chair, carefully cracking his neck and back, sighing in relief as he did so.

Well, he thought as he stood up from his chair and stretched before heading immediately for the cabinet that held his secret stash of alcohol, at least that was one of his happier memories of her.

It truly was amazing just how easily one of her smiles could set his heart at ease. It still did even now, but only in his dreams. When he was awake however, her smiles only cause him to feel remorse and anger.

Mahal he had loved that woman. Still loved that woman.

He poured himself a large mug of one of his strongest wines that he saved for moments such as these.

He had never been much of drinker before he reclaimed Erebor but now he was lucky to go a day without at least one cup of strong alcohol in his system.

_All because of her. It's always because of her…_

_Damn_, he thought with a scowl, _it was back_. The voice that had almost driven him to complete madness and had caused him to cast away the one thing he treasured beyond all else. It came and went, depending usually on his mood. It was usually at it loudest and most vicious whenever he thought on her for too long.

_Go away_, he snarled back at the voice, _leave me in peace_.

_Her fault, her fault, all of it is all her fault…_ He shoved the voice to far regions of his mind where it usually stayed, quiet but waiting. Always waiting.

He rubbed his face, his fingers lightly brushing his lips as he did so before snarling at himself and threw back his drink down his throat with one gulp.

He quickly poured himself another before moving back to his desk and flopped back into his chair.

Would he ever be free of her?

He grimaced at the thought.

No, that wasn't what he wanted, not really, not at all in fact. No, what he wanted was to be able to think of her freely, without the voice bothering him and him having to resort to drinking to try and ease the pain of her lose.

It never did, the pain of her lose was just too strong for even the most potent of alcohols to fully dissolve. But it eased it, some.

He closed his eyes as soon as he had sunk back into his chair behind his great oak desk, his huge cup resting in his hand, his other hand sliding into his coat pocket, his fingers curling around the precious treasure that lay hidden there. Once he was as comfortable as he would get in his chair, he leant his head back against the back of it.

He prayed that he would fall into a dreamless slumber that his mind would allow him to rest for a little awhile without it conjuring up more memories of her.

Just for a few hours let him sleep without dreams, without memories, let him fall into a sleep filled with the blackness and mindlessness of death.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Some of you might be wondering why I've used a verse from Aragorn's peom for the title of this chapter and the truth of the matter is, I was stuck for a title chapter and I was just reading over the peom and thought 'Hey Bilbo is sort of the light that sort sprung into Thorin's life' and yeah, it was this thought that had me give this chapter the title it has. Kinda silly, but it sort of works.  
I'm currently half-way through writing chapter twenty-three of this fanfic (which is now a 130 pages long. I have no life. No seriously, I don't. I have work and I have this. Work and this fanfic are, at this moment, my whole world. Oh and my ferrets, but basically yeah, lol).  
A couple people have asked me how long do I think this fic will be and truthfully, when I started I thought that this fic would be no more than 20 chapters, if that. Now? I'm 23 chapters in and I still haven't got Frodo and Thorin meeting (the goal is to have this happen before chapter 30... that's the goal, I have no idea if that's going to actually happen) and I have a whole story-line for this fanfic for after these two meet and we have the whole Bilbo/Thorin sorting themselves out thing (Hehehe, *groan* I'm not really looking forward to writing that, it's going to take chapters to get these two to stop being stupid around each other because we all know they will be). So in answer... I don't know, fifty chapters maybe? I don't know. Talk to my fingers and my imagination, I'm just the vessal for them to do what they want.  
Anyway, enough from me - I want to watch my Hobbit DVD - and I will update with Chapter Sixteen - Revenge upon Unpleasant Relatives soon. Chapter Sixteen where back with Bilbo and Frodo and I bet a lot of you can guess from the chapter title what chapter 16 is going to be about *laughs evilly*.

Bye for now!


	16. Revenge upon Unpleasant Relatives

**Author's Note: **As you can probably guess from the chapter title of this fic, Bilbo will finally get her revenge on her nasty and unpleasant relatives *coughSackville-Bagginscough*

Please enjoy :D

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Revenge upon Unpleasant Relatives**

Bilbo could feel the depressive, black cloud start to occur above her head almost as soon as her four dwarves had moved out of sight down Bagshot Row but had forced herself to smile back at her family.

She was able to keep her warm and happy smile for almost two weeks before it started to slip once more into a smile that was forced. The only times her smiles were ever truly there and filled with any kind of warmth was when they were directed towards her son or father and maybe a few of her little cousins who came by to visit with their Took or Brandybuck mothers.

She was surprised by the lack of gossip surrounding her of later. She was expecting with the leaving of her dwarves, wicked tongues would once more be wagging but no, no such thing had occurred. And for that she was grateful.

_Maybe I should have threaten to break Lobelia's arm years ago_, Bilbo had thought one evening while she made dinner for her father and son before letting out a small laugh.

It was three weeks after the dwarves had left when she was invited around for tea with her Baggins cousins.

"Please Bilbo." Begged Dora, her favourite female Baggins relative, "Please don't leave me all alone with Ma and all the old bats she has invited!"

"Dora!" Bilbo said trying to sound as if she was scolding her cousin, only she was laughing too hard for it to be an effective scolding.

"What? It is true." Dora said with a stamp of her foot. "So will you come? You haven't been around to visit in such a long time. It's not as if we live all the way in Buckland, you'll be home before dinner."

"Dora."

"Please Auntie Bilbo." Dora clasped her hands out in front of her.

"Oh, alright." Bilbo groaned. "But this had better not be some trick to try and set me up with some suitor or other."

Dora pulled a face.

"Of course not! If anything, it'll me they'll be clucking over, saying which son should and could marry me." Dora pulled a quite tragic expression even though Bilbo secretly knew her younger cousin was not nearly as opposed to the idea of marriage as Bilbo herself had been when she been that age.

"I'll be there, Dora." Bilbo reassured her cousin who let out a happy squeal before throwing her arms around Bilbo's neck, crying, "Thank you, thank you," over and over.

"It's next Wednesday, two o'clock. Don't be late; you know how my mother gets when anyone arrives late to one of her afternoon teas."

"That I do Dora."

"Well, I had better be off." The hobbit lass sighed in a resigned matter. "Ma wants me to go to market and pick up a few things."

"Say hello to your mother, father and brothers for me won't you. Is your brother still head over heels for Primula Brandybuck?" Bilbo asked with a soft but amused smile.

Dora rolled her eyes at her younger brother's antics.

"He's trying to learn to row a boat so that he can impress her." Dora said with a delighted shiver. Baggins's were well-known for their great distaste with anything to do with large quantities of water in one place.

Bilbo's mind briefly drifted back to a moment in time that she had spent clinging to the side of barrel as it tumble down a great forest river in the direction of an even greater lake.

"Bilbo?"

"Hmmm…" Bilbo was drawn from her memories by her cousin's warm hand upon her arm, her dark eyes wide with concern.

"Are you quite alright?" Dora asked somewhat cautiously and Bilbo had to fight back a sigh for she could almost see the term 'Mad Bilbo Baggins' moving about her little cousin's head.

"Yes, I'm fine Dora. I think I've just had a bit too much sun today that is all." This seemed to have pacified her little cousin who went on to babble a few more rounds of gossip before taking her leave of Bag End.

Bilbo closed her front door feeling quite warn out. It had been over three weeks since she had had a proper conversation with anyone beside from her father and the Gamgees, the rest of her time had been spent on her book and taking care of her rambunctious son. Her rambunctious son…

Oh, wonderful, now she had to think of someone to take care of him for Wednesday afternoon. If she lived in or near Brandy Hall or Tuckborough she would never have a problem trying to find someone to watch her child, but here in Hobbiton it was quite a problem indeed.

Her papa could simply not keep up with Frodo's energy and none of her Baggins relatives beside from Dora and her family, who were the ones inviting Bilbo over for tea, really wanted anything to do with her child. Bilbo supposed she could always try and pull rank and make one of her Baggins take care of her child for the afternoon but she'd really rather not. She may be the head of the family, much to the disgust of some family members, but she had never felt the need to truly use – or abuse – the power that the title possessed.

She was chewing over her predicament in her front parlour when she heard a gentle knock on her front door.

"Coming." She called and pushed herself out of her favourite chair by the fire and trotted to her front.

"Gaffer." She said with a wide smile once she had discovered who was calling her. Her gardener smiled in return, offering her a large basket of vegetables, freshly pulled from her garden. And she suspected that a few had come from his own as well.

"Oh, Gaffer, thank you. You truly have a gift for making plants grow to their full potential." She said as she took the basket from him and started to admire it contents.

The Gaffer blushed and mumbled that it was his job but thanking you all the same before moving off to take himself off home. He was just about to pass through his gate when an idea occurred to her.

"Gaffer," Bilbo called causing her gardener to look back at her curiously, his curly blond hair shining brightly in the afternoon light.

"I have a favour to ask of you, if that would be alright?"

"Quite alright, Master Baggins." Her gardener replied with a wide grin

"Would you and your wife mind terribly to take care of Frodo next Wednesday afternoon?"

"Of course Miss Baggins, we'd be delighted."

"Thank you Gaffer. It'll only be for a couple of hours."

Gaffer nodded and smiled and bid her good night.

"Good night Gaffer. Say hello to your Father and Bell for me. And to all the children of course."

"I will Master Baggins. Good night." He gave her a cheerful wave before heading off down the lane for home.

Sighing heavily, Bilbo closed her front door and carried her basket of vegetable to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, dreading the coming Wednesday.

Wednesday came all together too quickly for Bilbo. It had been a long time since she had been invited to a formal afternoon tea since before her great adventure. And Ruby Baggins nee Bolger afternoon teas were big events in Hobbiton.

She stared down at her dress in disgruntlement. It was one of her more formal dresses, one that she hadn't worn since the days before her adventure.

It fitted more firmly around her hips and chest than it once had, but she supposed she should expect as much since having a child.

She ran her hands carefully over her stomach and hips, feeling the soft cloth beneath her fingers.

She supposed it was quite a pretty dress but the blue colour of it reminds her all too keenly of Thorin's eyes. But she had no time to change her dress now, so with a deep sigh, she looked away from her oval bedroom mirror and called for Frodo.

Her lad appeared almost immediately in her doorway, his eyes are bright and excited, clutching his wooden dragon closely to his chest.

"Ready?" Bilbo asked with a small smile.

"es Mama." He beamed up at her before reaching his arms up for her to pick him up.

"Goodbye Papa. Afternoon tea is on the kitchen table." Bilbo said as she kissed her father's temple from where he sat in his favourite chair by the fire in the front parlour.

"Good – Good bye. Take care of yourself," he wiggled his fingers lightly beneath Frodo's chin causing the little boy to giggle, "you be a good boy, now won't you my lad?"

"es, Grampas."

"See you tonight. If you need anything, the Gamgee's…"

"Dear heart, I will be fine, now off with you or you'll be late." Her father said with a soft smile and waved her out of the room.

"Alright, sweetheart, off we go." Bilbo said as she closed Bag End's great round green door and resettled her son upon her hip.

It was a short walk to Number 3, Bagshot Row and it was almost like second nature to knock on the familiar yellow front door.

Bilbo smiled when she heard the loud squeals of several children as they raced to the front door, completely ignoring the incoherent yells of adults from deeper within the hobbit-hole.

The yellow door swung open revealing a well-rounded youth in his late teens with a wide smile and bright dark eyes.

"Good afternoon Hamson." Bilbo greeted the youth who beamed back at her as his younger sibling tried to shove their way out the door.

"Good afternoon Master Bilbo, how are… would you lot knock it off!" the boy growled in annoyance at his shoving siblings behind him.

"But we want to say hello too!" one cried angrily trying to around Hamson form.

"Stop hogging Miss Bilbo all to youself." Another cried and Hamson gave yelp as a well aimed kick hit him in the back of his leg.

Bilbo took a few hurried steps back to avoid having the teen fall upon her and her child. The moment Hamson was out of the way the rest of the Gamgee children came streaming out the front door, crying loudly and cheerily their delight at her visiting them.

"Well, hello all of you," Bilbo said with genuine affection. She had always had a soft spot for children, all children no matter their race or who their parents were.

"Halfred you're getting taller! And look at you two, getting prettier every time I see you." Bilbo said smiling at the two Gamgee girls who beamed back at her in delight, their round cheeks flushing brightly.

"Oi, didn't I tell you lot to wait for me!" the children's eyes grew wide and before looking remorsefully back within their hobbit-hole as their mother strode towards them with young Samwise sitting on her hip, quietly playing with her curls.

"Good afternoon Bell."

"Afternoon Miss Baggins. I hope these lot didn't run you over. Hamson, what are you doing on the ground?" Bell Gamgee asked as she gave her eldest child a very bland look causing the lad to blush and hop quickly to his feet.

"Nothing, ah, inspecting the dirt?"

"Oh, and was it in need of such close inspection?" Bell asked drily.

"Ah… yes?" Bell rolled her eyes before giving Bilbo a small amused smile.

"Are you staying for tea Miss Bilbo?" May, the youngest of the Gamgee girls, asked hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid not." Bilbo replied regretfully. She would far more prefer to stay here with the Gamgees than spend an afternoon with stuck up relatives, even though she was quite fond of her cousins Dora, Drogo, their rascal of a little brother Dudo and their mother too. That is when the woman wasn't running one of her mad tea parties. Her tea parties made the usually calm and quiet Ruby Baggins quite unbearable due to her desire for complete perfection during the whole event.

The Gamgee children pouted up at her.

"But, I do have a big favour to ask all of you?" Bilbo said trying to get the children smiling once more. "Could you possibly take care of Frodo for the afternoon?"

"Of course." The two Gamgee girls beamed back at her brilliantly. The eldest girl, Daisy, came forward with her arms open to take the beaming Frodo from his mother's arms, the little boy smiling brightly at her as she did so.

"DAY!" He cheered as he wrapped his arms around her neck, causing the girl to giggle before she and May started cooing over him.

"Alright, well, he seems happy enough, so I'll sneak off while he's occupied." Bilbo said to Bell as the two mothers watched the children play.

"I'll be back before dinner time." She added and Bell nodded.

"He's welcome to stay for dinner, if need be." Bell replied as she gently bounced her baby on her hip.

Bilbo smiled fondly at sweet, little Samwise, her arms itching to hold him and coo over him but she had not the time, so with a final wave to the children and their mother, she head off down Bagshot Row towards Fosco and Ruby Baggins hobbit-hole, with more than a hint of dread in her stomach.

And she quickly discovered, the moment she entered Froso and Ruby Baggins hobbit-hole that she had every right to dread.

"What is Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins doing here?" she asked the youngest of Froso and Ruby's three children who had been desperately trying to escape the tea party unseen as she entered the hobbit-hole.

"Uh," Dudo said looking over at the two people in question, "not entirely sure to tell you the truth. I wasn't aware they were even coming until, well, they came through the front door. Can I go now Auntie Bilbo? I want to sneak out before Mother gives me another chore to do." The tween looked nervously in the direction of his mother who was conversing Rosa Baggins.

"Alright, off with you, you scamp. Try to stay out of trouble."

"Oh, I will." The boy replied with a wicked and cheeky gleam in his eyes before he shot off towards the front door.

Bilbo shook her head after her cousin before clenching her face into a smile, strode into the front parlour.

"Billanna!" Ruby cried in delight as she stopped her conversation with Rosa Baggins to come to Bilbo's side to give her a huge. Getting a hug from Ruby Baggins when she was in one of her less than frantic moods was much like how she remembered being hugged by her long-time deceased mother.

Bilbo tentatively returned the hug, knowing that if she allowed herself to fully relax into the embrace she would most likely humiliate herself by starting to cry. And that was the last thing she wanted to do in front of Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Ruby gushed once she had released her. "You're looking a bit thin in the face, sweetness." Ruby said her eyes wide with worry that had Bilbo blushing.

"I'm fine, thank you, Aunt Ruby." Bilbo said with a small, but genuine smile.

"And your little one? How is he? Still getting into everything?"

Bilbo couldn't help but give a rather un-lady like snort.

"But of course. Yes, he is well too."

"Is your father taking care of him this afternoon? Oh, bother…" Ruby said as she started wringing her hands worriedly, "I did forget about how young your little one is. I should have thought…"

"It's perfectly alright, Aunt Ruby." Bilbo said quickly, hopping to stop the storm of worry that would surely come if she left Ruby to ramble on, "He's staying with the Gamgees for this afternoon."

Bilbo heard a rather unkind snort from somewhere nearby but she ignored. She refused to allow herself to be riled up or insulted this afternoon.

"Oh, that's a relief. They have a young son close to Frodo's age don't they?" Ruby asked once more gushing happily.

"Yes, yes they do. Young Samwise. And their daughters quite simply adore him, so he's in very good hands. The best even. I can't think of anyone better to mind him."

"Because no one else will." She heard someone whisper and several sniggers following the comment. Ruby had obviously heard the comment and sniggers for she was wringing her hands once more.

Bilbo, to save her aunt from wringing her hands to death, quickly moved across the room to where Dora was sitting with some of the younger lasses attending the tea party.

"Auntie Bilbo." Dora exclaimed in delight as Bilbo sat down with the lasses, some smiling at her while others looked at her with varying looks of distaste.

Bilbo fought back a sigh. Why had she come here today? Honestly, why?

She didn't pay much attention to the chatter around her in the parlour, instead allowed for her mind to drift. Though only for a time as voices and words have nasty habit of dragging one from the peace of their own thoughts, especially when said voices are cruel and the words they speak are unkind and about oneself and family.

"What I find truly terrible about young people these days is that they think that they can get away with anything without a single thought about the consequences." Lobelia snotty, stuck-up voice broke through Bilbo's thoughts. She forced herself to not openly react to the comments. Only this quickly proved to be impossible.

"I quite agree Aunt Lobelia." Replied Hilda, Lobelia's niece, with a snotty sniff. Her young daughter Celandine who was sitting between Hilda and Lobelia was pressing her face into her hands.

She peeked through her fingers over to Bilbo who forced herself to smile reassuringly back at the young lass, who took far more after her Brandybuck of a father than she did after her Bracegirdle mother.

Bilbo once more tried to shut out the nasty voices out of her head, but it was growing increasingly harder to do so as Lobelia got more and more of Bilbo's snottier female relatives going.

"And let's not get started on the problem of inheritance laws these days." Lobelia said and Bilbo's fingers were curling into fists. "It seems that these days the laws have grown quite slack on important matters such as cutting off ones rightful heirs and naming a bastard in their stead."

Bilbo's fingernails were digging into her palms.

"And not any kind of bastard, right Aunt?" Hilda snickered nastily.

"Quite right, dear niece." Lobelia said with a cold and wicked smile in Bilbo's direction, "but a bastard who I do believe isn't quite altogether a hobbit."

There were collective gasps all around the parlour.

"Lobelia!" Ruby gasped as she pressed a hand over her heart, her face was bright red and filled with horror.

"Yes Ruby?" Lobelia asked serenely, "Is something the matter?"

Ruby seemed to be quite beyond words, her hand still fluttering over her heart.

"I am only speaking the truth. Anyone who consorts with," Lobelia's wrinkled her face in disgust, "people of different races should expect such a thing. And I'm only saying that those who do should do the courtesies thing and not inflict their presences upon the rest of us and should remove their illegitimate child from succession where they should never have been placed to begin with. I mean, it really is only proper and right thing to…"

"Lobelia?" Bilbo could no longer take it. She had sat idly by and allowed this horrible old bat insult her and her family for far too long. She was going to put a stop to this, once and for all.

She could feel all eyes upon her but she ignored them as she met her cousin-in-law straight in the eyes, causing Lobelia's cheeks to flush a dull pink.

"Yes Billanna?" Lobelia asked her voice snotty but Bilbo was pleased to detect as hint of fear in her pale eyes.

This knowledge caused Bilbo to smile which seemed to disturb all of her relatives who had been insulting her for the better half of the afternoon while causing her other relatives, those who were fond of her to smile back, clearly delighted to see her finally taking a stand against these nasty women. In particular Lobelia as she was their leader of sorts.

"May I have a word with you? In private?" Bilbo asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, her smile only growing as she watched Lobelia swallow nervously.

"Aunt Ruby?" She turned to look at her aunt who had gone back to wringing her hands, her face very red and looking altogether quite miserable.

"Yes Billanna?" She asked in a soft voice and looking quite close to tears causing for Bilbo the wish that she could hug her, but now was not the time.

"I was wondering if I might borrow Uncle Fosco study for a few moments, if that's alright?"

"Oh yes, of course." Ruby babbled weakly as she stood up from her chair and pointed in the direction that Bilbo knew Fosco's study to be in.

"He's out at the moment, so you should have all the privacy you need." Ruby continued nervously while Bilbo smiled at her gratefully all the while thinking 'I very much doubt that'.

"Coming Lobelia?" Bilbo said looking back at her cousin-in-law cheerfully, "I think you and I need to have a little chat. It's quite overdue, I do believe. Wouldn't you agree? Sorry, Lotho, but I only wish to speak to your mother at this present moment in time." Bilbo said as she waved her once-husband-to-be back into his seat causing him to glare back at her in return. Which Bilbo ignored and after making sure that Lobelia was following her out of the parlour, she walked with her head held high towards Fosco's study.

"Yes Billanna?" Lobelia asked with a tight little smile, her eyes narrowing as she watched Bilbo close and lock the door of the study securely behind them. "What is it?"

Bilbo took a deep breath and allowed form some of the fury, humiliation and pain that she had been feeling for years, swell within her chest.

"I thought it was time that we had a chat, as our conversations are usually quite one sided, don't you agree? Well, this conversation is going to be very much like our usual ones, expect with this one, I will be the one speaking and you will stand there and listen to every word I say and not say a single word in return. Only I think you'll find what I have to say to you much more nerve-wracking, life-changing than anything you have ever said to me ever was."

"I don't have to listen to you." Lobelia sneered.

"Oh but dear cousin, I think you'll discover that you really do, for if you don't I could make your life and the life you are very much accustomed to very, very uncomfortable for you. But then," Bilbo nonchalant shrug, "I could still make your life very uncomfortable for you even if you do listen to every word I speak in this moment. But it's all up to you. Will you listen to me… or will you not? Either way I'm perfectly happy to play out my revenge," Bilbo smiled widely.

Bilbo leant back against Fosco beautiful carved wooden desk as Lobelia chewed spitefully over her words.

"Fine." She snapped and Bilbo smirked.

"Good choice. Now you have to listen to every word I say or…"

"Yes, yes, now get on with." Lobelia snapped but Bilbo could clearly read the fear and apprehension in her eyes.

"Lobelia," She spoke calmly and coolly, allowing for all her pain and humiliation to fuel her words while still keeping a tight grip upon them all at the same time. "Lobelia, I have taken everything you have said to me or about me with reasonable grace, would you not agree?" She didn't given her cousin-in-law time enough to agree or disagree before she continued on, "I have listened to every sneered comment and nasty remark you have made and I have not said a word in retort. I have breathed not a word about that particularly unfortunate incident that occurred in my front garden a few weeks ago, even though I have every right to do so. And if you had not proceeded to push my hand to day, I would have continued to have kept my mouth shut about, well, everything, but now? I have had enough." She stopped smiling now and allowed for her face to contort into scowl that had Lobelia taking a step away from her and towards the locked door, "I will no longer put up with your insults, jibs, sneered remarks or cruel comments and rumours you continually spin about me and my child!" Bilbo felt herself start to lose control over her temper and forced herself to take a few deep calming breathes before continuing, trying to imagine herself to be like cold fire. Like how she remembered _him_, whenever he was truly furious. A blazing fire captured within freezing ice. That was how she wanted to appear in this moment. In this moment she wanted to be like him.

Lobelia opened her mouth to start protesting or shoot back some kind of retort only Bilbo did not give her the time to do so.

"If you so much as speak another word about my child, my father, or about any of my friends, be they hobbits, elves, wizards or dwarves or about myself, I will see you ostracized from this day onwards from all polite company within the Shire. And don't even think for a single moment," Bilbo snapped as Lobelia started to protest, her eyes wide with shock and horror, "that I won't. I am the head of this family, and yes, I may be considered by some as 'Mad Bilbo Baggins' but I still have all the powers that a head of a family possess. And I'm not just the head of this family, am I? If you will please, remember that I also have important family members in the Took and Brandbuck clans. Please remember that my mother was the daughter of the Old Took and that her youngest brother is still Thain for the Shire and he would only be too glad to put a stop to horrible rumours that you have been spinning for all these years. Both him and the Master of Brandy Hall, I believe, and not just them I can assure you. Please believe me when I say, Mrs Sackville-Baggins, that if I so much as breathe the word, you would become a social pariah in a heartbeat."

"You wouldn't." Lobelia stuttered as she placed a hand over her heart as she stared at Bilbo in disbelieve and horror.

"I would." Bilbo replied coolly, "Please don't underestimate me Lobelia. If I hear so much as a whisper, you and your family will be finding yourselves in need of moving to Bree as you will no longer be welcome in any parlour within all the Shire. Good afternoon." Bilbo finished with a wide smile as she stared at her pale cousin-in-law whose hands were still fluttering over her chest as Bilbo moved past her to open the study door, not at all surprised when several lady hobbits fell onto the floor at her feet. She knew there would be eavesdroppers, which made the whole exchange all the better.

Hobbits were notorious sticky-beaks and gossipers, so it would only be a matter of time before all the Shire knew of Bilbo's threat to Lobelia which would be an even greater incentive for Lobelia to keep her mouth shut for the moment she didn't someone would let someone else know and well… Goodbye Sackville-Baggins.

Grinning widely at the very thought, she stepped carefully over the fallen hobbits, said her goodbyes and thank youse to the hobbit ladies who had remained in the front parlour, all of whom were looking at her with questioning expressions but seemed to be content with her smile for now.

She knew well enough that she would be receiving multiple callers in the coming days from curious relatives such as Dora and her mother – she must make a note to make a very nice afternoon tea for dear Ruby as the poor hobbit lady still looked to be quite distressed with how her afternoon tea had gone – but at the current moment in time Bilbo was in no mood to answer any questions, simply desiring to be of the smial and outside in the fresh air underneath the sky with the lowering sun warming her face.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It was fun writing a chapter all about hobbits and their social politics. I love the Gamgees and the Baggins.

Anyway, one more chapter to go before we jump to a number of years (won't tell you how many, but fear not, Frodo will not be thirty-three) and the story really starts going... except for the poor writer it doesn't because the stupid build up chapters just don't want to write themselves *pouts*. Most annoying and frustrating but I'll get around it, I'm just writing a lot slower than usual and the amount of rewrites is horrific ;_; but I will be victorious!  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next Chapter -More Relative Only This Time of a Curious Nature


	17. More Relative Only This Time of a Curiou

**Author's Note:** This is simply a filler chapter. A fun filler chapter, but a filler chapter nonetheless. The next chapter will be the start of the second arc of this fanfic and things start to get moving. Or at least, I wish they did, I'm stuck on writing bloody chapter twenty-five *cries*. I think I'm going to have to do a full rewrite of chapter 25 and maybe then things will start rolling again. The problem is I know exactly where I want to go and what I want to happen in the chapter, it just getting it written down is an issue for some reason. It's very frustrating.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

**More Relative Only This Time of a Curious Nature**

Bilbo was right in her prediction that curious relatives would come calling the moment it was a considered a reasonable hour to do so. In fact, she was even counting the minutes to when it was considered a reasonable hour to call upon someone, grinning when she heard a loud knock against her front door the moment the clock on the mantel piece struck nine thirty on this fine Thursday morning.

With an almost skip to her step – she had not felt this free and childlike in years. Even her time with her dwarves hadn't made her feel this way – as she went to answer her door, not at all surprised to see who was standing on her front doorstep.

In fact, there was more than one person on her door step and she was briefly reminded of the night she had found six or so dwarves plus a wizard falling through her front door on to her front mat. Only, of course, the wizard hadn't fallen, he had stood back and watch the whole event occur, laughing quietly with his eyes twinkling.

_But anyway, back to the present_, Bilbo told herself firmly as she smiled at several young cousins standing on her doormat looking at her with mix expressions of awe and disbelief.

"Hello you lot." Bilbo said brightly, "I guess you would all like to come in and have some breakfast."

"Yes please."

"Dudo, hush now," Dora said as she nudged her younger brother in his ribs, "now is not the time for food."

Dudo scowled up at his elder sister but fell respectfully quiet.

"Even so," Bilbo said grinning at her mix-match of assembled cousins, "I'm guessing you would all like to come in, yes?"

"Yes, please." Dora said and Bilbo stepped back to allow all the youngsters inside her front-hall.

"Hello there Primula. I didn't get a chance to say hello to you yesterday. Or to you too Drogo." She couldn't help but grin at the blushing young adults. Honestly, young love was truly one of the most adorable of things to witness. Not that she had any experience of what young love was like, of course. She had never had a 'young love'.

No, the only love that she ever experienced was a short-lived one. But it had been great and powerful and left her with a heart that was broken beyond repair and whatever was left of it was still so solely _his_ she could never give it away the pieces to anyone else… no matter how much she might want to.

She shook her head, shaking those thoughts away.

Dudo was also watching his elder brother and young Miss Primula closely and let out a little immature giggle.

"Oh," he sang, "I wonder why that was."

"Hush up Dudo." Drogo growled at his little brother, looking quite close to smacking the lad over the back of his head.

"Now, now, behave. Are we expecting anyone else?" Bilbo said grinning despite herself.

"Ah," Drogo said going quite red around his ears, "I do believe Paladin and Saradoc are coming around shortly." He looked to Primula for confirmation who nodded her blonde head looking quite embarrassed indeed.

"Saradoc and Paladin?" Bilbo asked quite surprised. She hadn't been expecting them. "What are those two trouble-makers doing in Hobbiton?"

"Ah, escorting me for Mrs Ruby's tea party." Primula blushed in embarrassed. Bilbo got over her surprise and started to feel amused when she heard Prim's disgruntled grumble under her breath, "escorted by my own nephew! He's only a year older than I!"

"Oh Prim," Bilbo chuckled fondly; she had always had a soft spot for her mother's sister's youngest daughter, "try being almost wedded to your father's younger brother's son's son who also happens to be older than yourself, and then we'll talk." Bilbo teased and Prim giggled.

"Yes, that is rather odd." Prim said with a shy grin.

Bilbo rolled her eyes, thinking that calling the arrangement simply odd was something of an understatement.

"Oh, very much so." She still cringed at the very thought of it. "Well, when will your nephew and his Fool of a Took and my second cousin going to arrive then?"

"Ah…" Prim said her cheeks flushing once more.

"I think that's them now." Dudo said as he peered out of Bilbo's front door and down Bag Shot Row. "Yes, it's them. HELLO!"

"_Dudo_!"

"Dudo, please, inside voice." Bilbo said gently to the embarrassed tween.

"Sorry Auntie Bilbo."

"That's quite alright but please remember that a very sick old hobbit lives in this house so he does like his quiet."

"Where's my little second cousin?" Prim asked looking around her, clearly hoping that Frodo would pop out from behind the umbrella stand.

"Sleeping." Bilbo replied, "he had a very busy afternoon yesterday, so he's still sleeping it off, I'm afraid."

"Oh," Primula said with a pout.

"I'm sure that he'll be awake before you all leave." Bilbo added and both hobbit lasses beamed.

"Hello? Aunt Bilbo?" Paladin Took was sticking his curly brown head around the Bilbo's front door.

"Hello Paladin. Where's Saradoc?"

"Here." A second head appeared around her door.

Bilbo fought back a wide grin at the sight of the two. Out of all her cousins on her Took and Brandybuck side, these two scamps were by far her favourite. She had spent much of her youth in their company, despite them both being several years her junior.

"Come in you rascals!" she said brightly and the two lads entered her front hall beaming at her with equal cheek.

"Where's Frodo?" Paladin asked as he closed the front door.

"Sleeping." Bilbo explained, "Busy afternoon yesterday."

"And he wasn't the only one who had a busy afternoon I heard, Aunt Bilbo." Saradoc teased his eyes bright with intelligence and cheek.

"How much have you actually heard and how much of what you've heard is actually rumours?" Bilbo asked as she led her troupe of cousins towards the kitchen.

"Ah, well…" Drogo said as he sat himself down beside Prim at Bilbo's kitchen table. He looked over at Dudo who turn slightly red.

"Ah, eavesdropping again were you Dudo?" Bilbo asked her youngest present cousin who went an even brighter shade of red.

"I wasn't actually meaning to, I swear. I just so happened to be outside Papa's study window when you entered it with Mrs Sackville-Baggins." The boy mumbled as he stared intently down at his fingers. There weren't many in the Shire who could make Dudo Baggins feel bad about whatever mischief he had gotten up to, but Bilbo was indeed one of the few who could.

"Is it true that you would have her ostracized?" Dora asked curiously.

"Yes, yes, I would." Bilbo said firmly causing her cousins to look at her in shock and amazement. Paladin and Saradoc looked at her with new found respect.

"But only," She added, "if she pushes my hand."

"I don't know why you haven't threaten to do this to her before Bilbo." Saradoc stated, "After all the horrid things she has been saying about you behind your back for all these years."

"And to her face." Dora added bristling with anger on Bilbo's behalf.

Bilbo sat back in her chair, feeling quite heart-warmed by the angry response from her cousins at the treatment that she had been receiving over the years from stuck-up relatives.

"But," Bilbo said over their voices, hoping to both calm and quietened them all down, "that has all been sorted now. Lobelia will be keeping her nasty opinions to herself from now on."

"Do you believe she will?" Dudo asked curiously.

"Lobelia love of reputation and social standing will be what keeps her mouth shut." Bilbo said with a shrug as she distributed scones, jam and cream around the table for the young adults and tween to eat.

"Maybe so, but it still doesn't make her pay for all the awful things she's spoken about you these past few years." Dora grumbled as she bit deeply into a scone.

Bilbo shrugged.

"Don't you care what she's been saying Auntie Bilbo?" Dudo asked curiously, his dark blonde head tilted to one side.

"No, not really."

"Why?" the boy asked.

"Dudo." Dora and Drogo exclaimed, "Don't be rude!"

"I wasn't, though, I was just asking why?" Dudo cried back in annoyance, "I want to know how she does it, so that maybe," he looked back at Bilbo, "you could teach me?"

"Teach you?"

"To not care what people say about me." The boy replied his eyes becoming sad.

Bilbo smiled fondly at the lad.

"It's mind over matter. I don't mind and they don't matter."

"Does that really work?" Dudo asked, a tad sceptical.

"It does for me." _Most of the time_, "but then I am much, much older than you Dudo." Bilbo chuckled.

"Only by twenty something years." The lad said pouting before grinning his usual mischievous smile back at her.

"Oh," Bilbo said with a mock groan, "don't say it like that! Now, you've made me feel old."

"Aunt," Dora giggled, "you're not even forty-five yet."

"Shush, keep your voices down." Bilbo grinned as her cousins to giggle.

"But getting back to the matter at hand," Saradoc said once everyone had calmed down again, "are you certain that this will be enough to keep the old bat's, and the rest of her awful family, mouths shut?"

"Yes, I do think so. Though," Bilbo said speaking carefully now for she had to word her next few sentences just right, "I do believe that I will have their tongues wagging again in a couple of years' time."

"Oh, why?"

Bilbo hesitated, not sure if she really should be telling this to her young cousins when she hadn't even mention it to any of their heads of family.

"Well, possibly because of what I have planned for Frodo's future will not be looked well upon by others."

Her cousins frowned at her, heads cocked to one side.

"What do you mean?"

"Bilbo, there are those who already look poorly upon what they believe Frodo's future to be." Paladin said with a cheeky grin.

"Yes, I know that already, thank you very much Paladin. But that is not the future that I am referring to."

"The one where Frodo becomes head of the Baggins family and inherits Bag End?" Dora asked.

"Yes, that one. That is not the future I have planned for him, but rather the future I have planned for you three." She gestured to her three Baggins cousins.

"Who? US?" Dudo squeaked in delight, bouncing up and down in his seat, while his elder brother and sister simply looked back at her gobsmacked.

"Yes, you three. But I swear if I hear this going around the Shire Dudo Baggins, I will use Sting on you, do you understand me?" Bilbo warned her youngest cousin firmly.

"Yes, Auntie Bilbo." The boy replied meekly

"But what about Frodo? I thought you said you didn't listen to all the nasty gossip. Why are you planning on cheating him out of his rightful inheritance?" Drogo asked looking quite annoyed on his little cousin's behalf.

"I'm not cheating him out of anything," Bilbo replied as calmly as she could though she was having second thoughts about telling her plans to her young and still reasonably hot-head cousins. "I simply have different plans for him. If he decides that he does not wish for what I have planned then he will inherit Bag End and become Head of our family. But," and she did hope he would, "if he does chooses to go through with my plans for him, than I need to decide who will inherit Bag End and the family title. And I have chosen you three."

"But… but…" she seemed to have rendered her three Baggins cousins speechless.

"What do you have planned for Frodo, Aunt Bilbo, if you don't mind my asking?" Saradoc asked his dark eyes curious.

Bilbo looked down at her hands, smiling sadly.

"My plan… my hope is that when he comes of age he'll choose to go and meet his father and I pray that his father will accept him and give him a place by his side."

"Frodo's… father?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Where is he?" Prim asked softly.

"Far, far away from here." Bilbo sighed heavily.

"Those dwarves…" Dora started saying slowly and carefully.

"No, he wasn't one of them. He doesn't know about Frodo and probably won't until Frodo goes to him when he's thirty-three."

"So Frodo's father is dwarf!" Dudo said looked thrilled while his elder siblings and cousins blinked dumbly at their aunt as they digested this piece of information that they had heard for years through spiteful rumours but had never quite believed was actually true.

"So…" Drogo started slowly, clearly still trying to wrap his hear around the fact that his favourite cousin was indeed half dwarf. Not the easiest of concepts for even the most laid-back hobbit to get his head around.

"Yes, that bit of Lobelia's nasty rumours was indeed correct. For being such a tactless women she is quite perspective when it comes to anything that can fuel new gossip." Bilbo said with a shrug of her shoulders as she moved over to her boiled kettle.

"I suppose that makes sense." Prim spoke slowly, "he's never been what you would call your average hobbit baby."

"Too quick, too clever for one of such a young age." Drogo agreed.

"Yes, well now you know why." Bilbo sighed as she moved the kettle to the table and started to pour hot water into everyone's tea cups. "And I would ask that would keep this knowledge to yourselves."

"OF COURSE!" Bilbo bit back a grin at the outraged voices of her cousins, who were all giving her looks of shock and annoyance, clearly offended that she would have such a little trust in them.

"Wha's – what's all this racket? Dear heart, those dwarves of yours aren't back, are they? We've barely restocked the pantry from their last visit…"

"Good morning Mr Baggins." The cousins chimed brightly as Bungo walked into the kitchen. He looked them all over once before giving his daughter one of his looks. He let out a great sigh when Bilbo only smiled serenely back at him, muttering under his breath, "I think I'd rather have dwarves."

He gratefully took the steaming cup of tea from Bilbo before informing them all that he was going back to bed.

"Don't know whether to be amused or hurt." Saradoc stated cheekily once they were sure Bungo was safely tuck back away in his room.

"Be amused." Bilbo advised with a small smile.

"Why doesn't he like us?" Dudo asked looking torn between being amused and slightly hurt.

"Oh, it's not you, exactly, he doesn't like." Bilbo reassured the youngster.

"Then what is it that he doesn't like?"

"The loudness and irresponsibility of youth." Bilbo stated simply with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Huh?"

"He's old and we make him feel ever older is basically what Aunt Bilbo is saying." Saradoc said with a grin while Bilbo rolled her eyes.

"There's a bit more to it that that, but that's one way to sum up he's feelings." Bilbo chuckled fondly.

She hears her name being called; the name that means far more to her than the name her mother gave to her at her birth or the one she adopted for herself when she was just a child. This name is one she will happily kill anyone who threaten the crier of it.

"Excuse me." She says with a small smile as she leaves the kitchen and walks for her child's room.

"Mama." Her baby beams at her from where he is leaning heavily over the top of the railings of his crib.

"Hello my dearest heart." Bilbo says as she moves forward and lifts him from the confines of his bed and hugs him close to her chest. "Did you sleep well my darling?"

" 'es." His beam grows even wider as he starts to describe his latest sets of dreams to her in toddler's tongue.

If Bilbo could understand more of the tongue of toddlers she may have found herself being quite disturbed by her son's dreams but as she could not, she smiled and spoke words of encouragement and praise for his dreams with every pause of breath he took before continuing on with his describing his dreams

Dreams of like which no other hobbit – besides maybe his mother and a few great and long forgotten ancestors before him – would ever have in their life time. Dreams that involve the past and some were even of the future though neither son nor mother realised this.

Neither realised that the dreams that Frodo was describing to his mother were in fact of things that were going to occur in their very near future. Of an event that would tip the very balance of Middle-Earth and would affect them both, deeply and ruthlessly, changing their lives forever.

An event that would rip them both away from the home they loved and throw them into a world where an evil power was slowly creeping back into. An event that would start with a pebble and result in avalanche of like has never been seen before in all of Middle-Earth.

But neither mother or son knew or realised any of this and so were both blissfully ignorant to the trials that the future had install for both of them. Blissfully unaware that change, which was such a rare and uncommon occurrence within the Shire, was just around the corner.

If Bilbo had understood more of what her son was babbling about she would most likely have been deeply afraid and would have tried to send word to Gandalf via any means necessary. But as she could not understand her son's unique language she felt no reason to fear what she what he spoke to her. Though maybe there was just a hint of tribulation in the very core of her soul, but she ignored it as she got her little one dressed and with him still babbling happily, his wooden dragon clutched close to his chest. She walked back to kitchen with him sitting on her hip, her cousin immediately getting up from the table to greet the little Dwobbit, his female cousins each wanting a turn of holding him while his male cousins proceeded to pull faces and tickle him as he giggled happily.

Bilbo smiled at the scene before her, having absolutely no idea that this peace and contentment she was currently feeling might soon be destroyed. She had no knowledge that fate was not yet finished with her and that it had an even more elaborate destiny in store for her child.

_**Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.**_

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**Author's Note:** So this is the end of Arc One of this fic. YAY! Arc Two starts a few years in the future (Frodo is still a kid, not 33, so don't worry, everyone.).  
I know I put Frodo's "actual, real" parents into this chapter, why? Because I wanted to and because I wanted to put some well-known hobbits into this chapter, instead of making-up new hobbits or useing less known hobbits. I put in Merry and Pippín's dads into this chapter too because I could.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Chapter Eighteen will be up shortly and hopefully I will have chapter 25 sorted out so that I can get on with the rest of the main story, which I want to write _so_ badly!

Next chapter - Chapter Eighteen: A Truly Unlucky Fellow


	18. A Truly Unlucky Fellow

**Author's Note:** So here is the first chapter for Arc Two! YAY! Though I admit I was starting to hate Arc two as it was being such a pain to write. Thankfully after a long, involved discussion with my step-dad (I've confused and intrigued him with this fic.), I might have found the light in darkness with this arc, so hopefully it will now give me no more trouble to write.  
This chapter is bringing to head what I've been hinting at since Chapter 4 of this fanfic. I'm also introducing a whole cast of new characters with this Arc, some being introduced with this chapter.

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**Chapter Eighteen**

**A Truly Unlucky Fellow**

The wind was bitterly cold as the storm raged over head and not for the first time Radin son of Runira regretted coming along on this venture. This business truly has nothing to with him and his younger brother Ranon, so why must they be the ones to repay the debt that their foolish and greedy uncle had created?

_Because if you don't, everyone in the family will be in danger_, a voice whispers in Radin's head and he angrily follows the dwarf in front of him.

He has no idea where they are going and he doesn't like that it is just the two of them, too easy to picked off by bandits or a pack of goblins. He had heard there were more of both appearing all over the country these days and it disturbed and worried him deeply. And with his infamous luck it would be one or the other that would descend upon them.

He wishes and not for the first time that he and his family could be safely tucked away in one of great dwarven strongholds that still exist around Middle-Earth. It needn't be one as grand as Erebor, the recently reclaimed kingdom of Durin's line; his family would happily move into one of small strongholds belonging to the Ironfist clans or maybe to the Iron Hills even. But his family are outcasts, traitors even to some and all because of one incredibly stupid ancestor.

Radin wasn't exactly sure what it was his ancestor actually did to get his whole line labelled as outcasts and traitors, but whatever it was, his stupidity was clearly hereditary or else Radin wouldn't be in this mess.

_Stupid, useless ancestor! Stupid, useless uncle!_ Radin thought bitterly as he hunched further into his fur coat made from the skins of rabbits. The coat was made for him by his mother and usually did a good job of keeping him warm but on a night such as this one it felt as if he was walking completely naked.

Where were they going?

Radin moaned as the roaring skies above them opened and rain belted down upon them. This was ridiculous! No job, no matter how good the gold was, was worth being drowned over.

Radin muttered angrily under his breath, cursing the weather, the situation he was currently in, his family's ill luck, his own ill luck when he suddenly bumped into something solid causing him to almost slip down the steep, rocky path he had just climbed up.

"This is place the contact said we're to meet our business partner." Radin rubbed his weeping nose as he blinked through gale force wind and pouring rain, trying to see exactly what their "meeting" place looked like. He saw nothing but blackness and it hurt his eyes to look too hard at anything but his feet.

"How can you even tell?" Radin yelled over the rain almost gagging as rain water entered his mouth as he spoke.

"Can't you smell it?"

"Smell?" Radin yelled down at his feet, "My nose has been doing its best impression of a raging river since this bloody storm hit us. I can't smell a damn, bloody thing!" he rubbed his running nose in aggravation.

His companion made to no sign he had heard a word Radin had spoken and instead simply stood silently in the pouring rain and gushing wind. If Radin's nose was doing its best to appear that it was river than his companion's whole body was doing its best to appear to be made of stone.

Radin continued to rub his nose, his shivers now turning into full body shakes as he searched for a place to sit, hopefully somewhere sheltered from the blasting wind and torrential rain.

He thankfully found himself such a place only a short distance from his stone like employer and settles himself against the rock that was currently giving him shelter from the horrid weather.

Now if only he had some kindling to start a fire, then things would truly be looking up in his favour. But no, all he had in the pack on his back was some spare clothing (wet), a blanket (also wet), his water skin (which is now wet inside and out) and some beef jerky (which is of course wet as well).

He chews on some of the beef jerky as he contemplates just how truly unlucky his family really is and wonders if things could possibly get any worse.

He winces almost immediately after thinking that last thought as he remembered something his old granddad used to say fore he died.

'Never say 'things can't get any worse', the Gods take it as a personal challenge.' Was what his old gramps used to say or did he say destiny? Either way, it didn't matter, what did matter was accepting things as they were and to always expect the unexpected or it might just stab you in the back… like it did with his Uncle Rudon a few years back.

They never did discover which of the drunkard it was who stabbed Rudon in the back after he had apparently won a particularly fishy card game.

Not, Radin reminded himself, that they had tried particularly hard to find out who'd done it. No one was particularly fond of Uncle Rudon. Nor were they of his brother, the one who had landed Radin into this mess to begin with.

Why hadn't the drunkard who had stabbed Uncle Rudon gone ahead and done them all the big favour and stabbed Uncle Rundan while he was at it? Honestly, it would have done the whole family a great service, killing the two brothers in one go instead of killing just one and leaving the other to continue causing issues and problems that the family had to solve because Rundan had no means to do so himself. And if they didn't… well, they'd all end up like Uncle Rudon, wouldn't they? A knife sticking out of their back as they lay face down in an over flowing with garbage and other waste gutter.

No, Radin knew well enough that when it came his time to die he would not die a great war hero by any means but that didn't mean he wanted to end his life face down in a waste filled gutter. He wanted to do something good with his life, so that when it did come his time to die he would have no regrets only… he had never really had a chance to do anything good with his life.

He mulled once more over his own ill luck when he heard his employer suddenly call out to something or someone over the gale force winds and rains. Radin wasn't sure how the person, whoever they were, had heard his employer over the storm – or saw him for that matter – but suddenly he saw another dwarf standing with his employer.

"Mongrel, get over here." his employer belted out and Radin gritted his teeth against both the cold wind and cold fury that curled around in his gut. He should be used to this kind of treatment by now, he really should, but…

Wrapping his arms closely around his torso, Radin moved to stand with the two dwarves, trying not to smirk too hard as he towered over them. A silly thing really to find amusing but he took what he could get when it came to dealing with these types of people.

"Mongrel, this is our contact, Bovin. Bovin this is the mongrel of a lad I told you about, nephew to the fool Rundan." Radin bit down harder upon his tongue to keep his mouth firmly shut to make sure he didn't say anything that he would most certainly regret.

"Wasn't the only fool in the family by the looks of things?" Bovin snorted, "Father or mother?"

"Mother, I believe. Rundan younger sister. Thought she was the only one in that whole damnable family with some brains but," Radin's employer looked him up and down through the still torrential weather, "clearly not."

Radin bit even harder down upon his tongue, tasting the copper taste of blood in his mouth. Thankfully the two dwarves moved on to talking about their business partner.

"He'll be along soon." Bovin was saying as they stood beneath the rock that had sheltered Radin earlier.

Radin was once more sitting against it, not really paying as much attention as he probably should have been as to what was being spoken between the two dwarves but he was simply the grunt, the pack donkey.

What point was there in listening to a job? You'll only find yourself becoming depressed over how much you're going to be carrying all by yourself. Not to mention the depressing thought of how valuable whatever it is you are carrying. The more valuable the thing on your back is, the more your life is in jeopardy from bandits or goblins.

Though with goblins, Radin supposed it didn't matter one inch of your life if you had something valuable on your back or not, goblins would kill you all the same.

And let's not get into the moral qualms about his various jobs. Radin never felt good about carrying stolen goods on his back, but if he raised a word of complaint about it, he'd be out of a job now, wouldn't he?

He was just starting to doze off when he heard what sounded like a howl. And then another and another.

He jumped to his feet, almost clocking himself on the roof of their rocky shelter, his fingers moving to grasp the large hammer that his gramps had made him before the old man had finally died of shame. Shame of what his two sons had become or shame over his daughter and her children, Radin was never really sure, but hoped with all his heart that his gramps had died from the shame of his uncles and not over the life choices his mother had made.

He held his hammer up high, ignoring the annoyed snorts beside him and peered into the heavy rain, hoping to see the wolves before they were close enough to rip out his throat.

"Oh Mahal…" he whispered as he finally saw exactly what creatures were making the horrible howls. His heart shuddered in fear as he saw what was riding them.

He gripped his hammer all the tighter in his hands for despite his terror and the desire to wet himself he refused to go down without a fight. He refused to make this an easy feed for the evil creatures stalking towards them through the rain and wind.

"My lord." Bovin cried and Radin felt like gagging when Bovin went down upon his knee, a gesture that was quickly followed by Radin's employer.

What were they DOING! Had they no pride as full-blooded dwarves? These were orcs and wargs they were bowing to! BOWING!

"Kneel, Mongrel," Radin's employer hissed. "Kneel!" Radin yelped as he was yanked bodily to the stone ground, almost breaking his own hand with his own hammer as he tried to catch himself.

He kept his head down, refusing to look at the evil, snarling creatures around him but he refused to let go of his hammer.

He held it tightly and prayed that he would be able to take out a few of the foul creatures before they tortured him to death.

He bit down hard upon his bottom lip, fighting back useless, frighten tears.

He didn't want to die, especially not at the hands of Orcs. All he had ever wanted was for his family to live comfortably and safe. That was all, nothing else. That was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever prayed to Mahal for.

"You have, information, I believe." Radin felt his spine stiffen at the sound of a cruel, silky voice speak clearly despite the terrible weather.

Radin lifted his head slowly and blinked through the rain and wind to try and see the speaker more clearly. He soon wished he hadn't.

At the centre of the warg ridding Orc pack, was a huge, pale orc with frighteningly bright blue eyes that seemed to burn holes into ones very soul.

"Yes, my Lord Bzog," Bovin cried, " I have information concerning the Halfling who denied your father, Azog the Defiler, his rightful trophy of the head of Durin's King and who also helped to bring about your father's untimely demise."

"Speak."

"He-he lives in a place known only as the Shire, in a section that is known as Hob… Hobbiton, I believe, my lord."

"And where did you get this information from Bovin?" the pale, orc sneered, "As the last time you said you had information about the Halfling it was to only inform me that the wretched creature was indeed dead. A fact that I knew to be quite false for my wargs could smell the wretched scent leaving the battle very much alive. They smelt the scent right up to the trees of Mirkwood before it was lost. The Halfling is alive, this I know. What I want to know is _where_."

"The Shire, Hobbiton, my lord. He's been living there comfortable for the last eleven years."

"And you know this from where?"

"From the very mouth of the Durin's King's nephew, my lord. I heard him and another dwarf, speaking of the place and of the hobbit during the last trading mission between Erebor and Ered Luin."

"And you are certain that they were speaking of the Halfling I seek?"

"Baggins, sir, they said the Halflings name was Baggins. And I did a little digging, my lord, and have discovered that the only Halfling known to have left the Shire for a grand period of time and returned in the past years goes by the name of Bilbo Baggins. And that was the name I heard mention by the King's nephew. He is alive, my lord, and living comfortably and…"

"And still in communication with the Durin King." The foul pale, orc smirked widely as he stroked the head of his white warg, "this is very good, very good indeed. Better than I had ever hoped, in fact. Bring me the Halfling." He snarled at Bovin, "alive… and unspoilt."

"Of course, my lord, of course." Bovin said bowing deeply to the pale orc.

The pale orc sneered at them before shouting something horrible in orcish before he and his terrible pack once more disappeared into the darkness of the storm.

"What are you _doing_?" Radin all but shrieked once he had found his voice and his feet. "Those are orcs! Our business partners are ORCS!"

"Anyone can be business partners with anyone… as long as they pay the right price." Bovin replied as he dusted himself down.

"But they're ORCS!" Radin cried.

"Oh hush it Mongrel, you're not paid to complain or to speak for that matter. You're paid for bodily labour and occasional mercenary work that is all. So unless you and your mongrel of a brother want to return to that pitiful family of yours with no money and no way of repaying your uncle's debt without using your own lives to do so, shut it!"

Radin opened his mouth to protest before falling silent. He didn't like this; he didn't like this at all.

Becoming business partners with Orcs? If his mother were here she'd be telling him to forget all about the debt, all about their money problems, they'd figure it out somehow, and that the only thing she wanted him to do right that very moment was to grab his brother and come straight home!

But he couldn't.

If he did that than his employer and Bovin would tell everyone who might just look the other way when thinking about employing him that he had skipped out on a job simply because it was a bit fishy around the edges and dealing with some disreputable folk, he would never work again and his family would be a good as dead.

No, he had to stick with this job, he had to. Anyway, it might not be so bad, deliver the Halfling, hobbit thing to the pale orc, get paid, go home, that's it.

Radin frowned, what was a hobbit anyway? Some kind creature? Halfling made it sound like, well, one thing crossed with another, sort of like…. well, him, but he had never been called something as simplistic as Halfling. No he had words like mongrel and half-breed thrown at him.

Lucky sod, only getting called Halfling when he got called all kinds of names under the Sun. But still it made his gut curl at the idea of delivering any kind of creature, Halfling or not, to the pale orc, Bzog was it?

He hoped the Halfling was a truly evil and disreputable little creature itself so that Radin wouldn't feel any guilt when delivering it to Bzog.

Somehow, deep in his gut, he knew this wouldn't be the case. It never was, not with him. Nothing was ever simple or harmless or in any way uncomplicated when it came to him. He wasn't sure if this was due to his mixed human/dwarf blood or because fate simply loved fucking with him, either way Radin son of Runira always seemed to find himself in the worse possible situations to be in and he had feeling that this mess that he was currently in was the worse by far.

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**Author's Note:** Ok, so first things first, I've given Azog another son as I'm figuring that Bolg was probably killed during the Battle of the Five Armies. Why did I do this? The simple reason is that when I first thought up this fanfic, I forgot the Bolg name was Bolg, I thought it was Bzog and when I discovered that it wasn't, I was kind of attached to the name and attitude that I have for him and thought what the hell, Azog can have another son, what difference will another AU character make?  
Anyway, oooo, the plot thickens... well it does kind of. Just so you know, I was hinting that this was going to happen since chapter 4 of this fic, so this isn't something I've suddenly thought up and dumped in here to make poor Bilbo's life even more difficult. This has been planned since the beginning.

Next Chapter we'll be back with Bilbo and Frodo. The chapter title is called 'Family Matters' but I might change it.


	19. The Worries of a Mother

**Author's Note:** Hi Everyone. Sorry for the wait for this chapter. I've been busy with work and haven't had much time to work on this fanfic ;_;. They've put me into the Admin office for this week so I spend all day answering phones, stuffing envelops and doing odd jobs here and there.  
I miss moving computers and setting them up for users. Give me that over talking to people over the phone any old day!

With this chapter we're back with Bilbo and a slightly older Frodo. Think of this chapter as sort of being the calm before the storm. At least that was how I thought of it as I was writing this chapter :D

Anyway, enjoy.

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**Chapter Nineteen**

**The Worries of a Mother**

Bilbo was not in a good mood, not one little bit.

"Where are you, you rascal!" She hissed as she moved through the cornfield, her annoyance and motherly fears rising several more notches when she received no reply from her wayward son.

"Frodo Thorin Baggins! Come back here this instant!" She all but yelled. It was growing quite dark and while she knew that she and her child were perfectly safe within the Shire, she had been, for some reason, on edge for almost a week now.

Why she had thought taking a walk with her son through a cornfield was a good idea was beyond her. She knew before they had even entered the field her rascal of a son would pull such a stunt as this and lo and behold he had.

"Frodo!" She jumped when she heard the screeching of birds over head, frowning because this would be the time of day for birds to settle down for the night, not take flight… unless, something had disturbed them.

She swallowed nervously and ploughed on through the cornfield, calling her son and silently begging that he would appear soon so that they could return to the safety of Brandy Hall.

_Listen to you_; she scolded herself, _getting more paranoid with each passing season!_

"Frodo! Come here right now! We're going to be late for dinner, young man!" She came to a fork in the path that she had been walking along in the field and felt a growing sense of dread.

Why wasn't he responding to her? He wasn't even in his teens yet and he had already become rebellious. Not in a nasty way that some hobbit youngster could become, but that lad was simply so curious about his world that he wandered off on a wimp and usually did not want to come back simply because his mother was calling him to do so. Oh, his curiosity and wanders-lust was going to get him into all kinds of trouble.

"FRODO THORIN BAGGINS!" She was yelling now and her feet had broken into a run as panic stirred relentlessly within her gut.

Why was she feeling so terrified all of the sudden? Why was she feeling as if something bad was just on the horizon? Why…

She was knocked clean off her feet by something small and solid moving at a tremendous speed. She rolled over on the path so that her wayward child was now sitting on her belly.

"Frodo…" She started to snap but stopped when she looked into her child's face her heart pounding madly within her ribs. She pushed herself up on to her elbows to get a better look at her child in the fading light.

"Yes Mama?" her son leant in closer and when she blinked her son's face was peering back at her from his mess of black curls, his brilliant blue eyes wide and apologetic.

"What have I told you about running off on your own, young man?" Bilbo reprimed as she forced her heart to return to its normal speed as she rolled her child off her belly so that he now stood beside her as she pulled herself to her feet and wiped down her clothes.

"Not to?" Her son was kicking the ground with his toes, his head bowed and arms tucked behind his back.

"And what did you do?"

"Ran off on my own." The boy muttered.

"May I ask why you disobeyed my very clear instructions of not wandering off on one's own?" Her son shook his head and Bilbo sighed, rubbing her face.

"Let's just return to Brandy Hall. I'll think of your punishment when we get home."

"Yes Mama." Frodo mumbled and Bilbo sighed again before cuddling her son close, kissing the top of his black curls.

"I just worry about you, so much." She whispered into his curls, "I love you more than my life. You are my life, darling boy and it scares me when you pull stunts like this."

"I'm sorry Mama." Frodo whispered as he hugged her tightly back, "I love you too."

"I love you most. Now come on, let's get back to Brandy Hall, they're all probably wondering where we are."

Hand in hand mother and son walked back the way they had come through the cornfield.

"Mama?"

"Hmmm?" Bilbo asked as she breathed a deep sigh of relief as they exited the cornfield and could see the lights of Brandy Hall in the distance.

"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?"

"What?" Bilbo forgot her relief as she looked down at her son sharply. The lad blushed and looked uncomfortable. Bilbo forced herself to become calm before asking, "Why do you ask, darling boy?"

"I don't know," the boy shrugged, "it's just a feeling that I get sometimes, that someone is watching me. It makes the hair on my feet and on the back of my neck stand up straight."

Bilbo swallowed as her son described the exact same feelings that she had been feeling for the past week.

"It's nothing darling." Bilbo lied, though was she actually lying when she herself wasn't sure if it were true?

Hobbits weren't known to get feeling such as the ones her son and herself were experiencing. Yes, there were some who could tell when it was going to rain due to a prickly sensation in their feet hairs, but no hobbit that Bilbo knew of received feelings such as these.

"It's nothing." She says again and forces herself to smile down at her son, "but how bout until these feelings go away completely, you keep close to me and not," her son started to blush once more as he predicted inside his head of what she was going to say next, "wander off."

"Yes Mama."

"A lot of "Yes Mama's" today, how bout actually doing what you're promising to do, hmmm?" she nudged her son playfully causing him to giggle.

"Race you to the front door." He yelled, letting go of her hand and taking off at a sprint towards the front door of Brandy Hall.

"You little cheat!" Bilbo cried laughing, breaking into a sprint herself. Her son squealed as she caught up to him, snagging him in her arms and placing kisses all over his face.

"MAMA! Let go!" he giggled and squirmed in her arms, trying his best to escape her embrace.

"Never!" Bilbo laughed and with her son still trapped against her, she walked them both through the front door of Brandy Hall much to the amusement of relatives who were standing by it, curious to see what all the commotions was outside.

Bilbo simply grinned widely at her Brandybuck relatives, still holding her prize close to her chest as she marched him to the closest washrooms to wash the dirt from his grubby paws.

Bilbo had always loved parties that were hosted by either one of her Took or Brandybuck relatives. A love that she had clearly passed on to her son, whom was laughing and dancing around with his many, many cousins from both Took and Brandybuck clans in the middle of the parties dance floor which was really on a large area of grass that was surrounded by tables and benches just outside of Brandyhall.

"Frodo seems to be enjoying himself." Bilbo looked around to smile at Eglantine Took nee Banks who had her latest addition to her family curled up in her arms.

"That he is." Bilbo beamed moving over on the bench she was sitting on at the edge of the dancing ring to allow the new mother of now three beautiful daughters to sit down beside her.

The two mothers smiled as they saw their children, Eglantine's eldest daughter and Frodo, dancing together. Frodo was taking great care to keep the little girl safe from the more robust moves of older cousins.

"He's very good with them, the little ones." Eglantine compliment as she settled her newborn daughter into a more comfortable position in her arms.

"He is. I'm very proud of him for being such a loving and patient older cousin." Bilbo said fondly, a motherly smile gracing her lips.

"Takes after his mother there, I do believe," Eglantine smiled and Bilbo blushed beneath her freckles.

"Yes, I suppose he does. I've always gotten on better with my younger cousins, but I'm sure your husband can tell you all about that." Bilbo replied with a small smile.

"He does." Eglantine agreed, "He tells me that some of his best childhood memories are of the days spent with you and Saradoc."

Bilbo shook her head laughing softly, smiling as she saw Saradoc son and currently only child run up to play with Frodo and Eglantine eldest daughter.

"I was so hoping that this little one would be a boy." Eglantine admitted softly, "I know how much Paladin and Saradoc hoped that they would have sons who would have the same friendship as they have."

"Eglantine," Bilbo said with a small laugh, "you are barely forty! You have a long time yet to give dear Paladin a son. Young Merry is barely more than a toddler, so there is no rush. Enjoy the time you have with your children, for each one is a blessing in themselves."

Eglantine smiled widely at Bilbo.

"You are very good at speaking exactly what one needs to hear. And you are right, I am still young yet and plenty of time to give Paladin the son and heir that he desires. Not," Eglantine added with a wide smile, "that he isn't delighted with our girls. I've never seen a man so wrapped around a six year old pinky, but dear Pearl, she only has to ask and Paladin will do everything in his power to give it to her." Eglantine laughed. "Same goes Pimpernal and, of course, little Pervinca here." the new mother smiled softly down at the sleeping babe in her arms and Bilbo felt the familiar itch she got whenever she was around a baby.

She crossed her arms across her chest, trying to fight the irritating itch of longing and to not think how she would never hold another baby of her very own ever again.

"Would you like to hold her?" Eglantine asked and Bilbo feared that the hobbit lass had read her thoughts. Though if she really had read Bilbo's mind, Bilbo very much doubted that dear, sweet Eglantine would want her holding her child at all.

_Say no, say no_, her brain hissed at her furiously, _say no, say no! Save yourself the heartache._

But in most matters involving young children, Bilbo's heart overrode her logical brain and her arms were moving without her mind's consent as she took the babe from her mother.

"I'll be back in just a moment." Eglantine promised before she disappeared amongst the party-goers.

Bilbo stared transfixed at the child in her arms, her heart thudding madly in her chest. It was silly, how worked up she got whenever she held a baby but it had been such a long time – or at least it felt like such a long time since she had held her boy like this – and she couldn't help but long for another child whenever she was near or had a baby in her arms. But of course another child of her very own would be impossible. The only way she would get another child running around her home in Bag End were if she was to adopt or foster one, as an unmarried mother, even with her more laid-back relatives fostering a child was very much out of the question and she had no close relatives with young children who were on their death beds. And even if she did, those children would never be allowed to be adopted by her.

She sighed heavily and forced those thoughts out of her head and instead simply enjoyed the feeling of holding a baby once more in her arms.

She was such a pretty little girl. Bilbo could see already that she would be taking after her Took of a father, much like her elder sisters did.

I _wonder what our daughter would have looked like Thorin, if we had had the chance to make her. Would she take after you, like Frodo certainly has or would she be more like me? Either way, she would have been beautiful, the gem of your eye, I am sure._

Bilbo closed her eyes, fighting back infuriating tears.

Now why had she gone and thought that?!

She shook her head, forcing the thoughts and worse the images that the thoughts had conjured within her mind out or at least to far regions of her mind where she now stuck most of her thoughts about him and what she – they had lost.

She could not… would not think of such things, her heart shards could simply not bear to think of such things or they might just break what little remained of them.

"Mama?"

"Hello my heart. Having fun?" She smiled as she opened her eyes to see not just her son but Eglantine eldest daughter and Saradoc only son standing by him, their little heads tilted upwards to look at her.

Her son hopped onto the bench beside her and looked down at the baby in her arms.

"She is very small." Frodo commented, wiggling a finger in the palm of the sleeping baby's. He smiled when the baby's fingers closed around it.

"You were once this small." Bilbo told him smiling fondly at the memory of her darling boy being so small that she could carry him in one arm if she wished.

"As were you two." She added to the giggling youngsters.

"Was not!" Saradoc son complained before grinning teasingly at his cousin, "Pearl was though. She was as small a _squirrel_!"

"Was not!" Pearl said with a stamp of her tiny foot angrily, her tiny face scrunching up with the threat of thunderous tears, "Don't lie Merry! Lying is bad!"

Merry grinned at Frodo who was giggling quietly behind his hand

"Merry don't wind up your little cousin." Bilbo reprimed the little boy gently, who blushed and nodded.

"Now why aren't you lot all dancing and playing?" Bilbo asked cheerfully, "it's a party; you should all be out having fun, not hanging about boring old me."

"You're not boring Mama. Or old." Frodo said so firmly he caused her to laugh as he reminded her of Kili during the few moments she had seen the dwarf lad looking serious about anything.

"Will you be telling us a story soon, Auntie Bilbo?" Merry asked his grey eyes wide and hopeful.

"Maybe." Bilbo laughed ruffling the six year old curly brown hair.

"What are you lot doing?" twin voices asked and Bilbo winced at the unison shrieks of "Papa!" as Merry and Pearl flew at their respective fathers, easily being swung up into the arms of their papas.

Bilbo felt a sting in heart as she watched her favourite male cousins play with their children, her eyes flickering to her own child who had suddenly become very intent with playing with the little hands of tiny Pervinca.

This was one of the many problems of bringing Frodo to family gathering. He saw just how different he was from other youngsters his age. He had no father and he had no idea why.

Bilbo wished all the harder that her four dwarves could come and visit her and Frodo more often than they did. When her dwarves were visiting Frodo seemed to notice less the absence of a father figure, not when he had four uncles dotting upon him.

He never questioned her on why he had no father, but she knew he must wonder. How could he not? For a child as young as he was, he had an intelligent and inquisitive mind; of course the thought had come to him, plagued him even.

Bilbo felt guilt gnaw away at her gut. She wanted to protect her child, not cause him even more harm.

She ran her fingers through his dark curls, smiling softly as he curled his body up against hers. They stayed like this long after Eglantine had returned for her child and she, her husband, his best friend and their children had moved off to enjoy the celebrations, leaving mother and son to enjoy their time together.

"Mama?"

Bilbo opened her eyes to the darkness of the guest room that she and Frodo were staying in for the duration of their stay in Brandy Hall.

"Yes, sweetheart."

There was a short pause and Bilbo wondered if Frodo had simply called out her name simply to make sure that she was still there in the unfamiliar room with him.

"Mama, why don't I have a papa like everyone else?"

Bilbo's heart sank. Even though she knew her bright little lad had wondered why he no father in his life, she had hoped to wait until he's late teens, early tweens even before he started asking her questions about it.

_Which is hardly fair_, a voice that sounded very much like her mother retorted tartly. _You are simply being a coward and it was wrong of you to leave him wondering for so long._

It was, of course, very wrong of her indeed. But it hurt to even think about Thorin, let alone try and talk about him to the son he didn't even know he had.

"You do have one dearest one." She spoke slowly and carefully, feeling the hole in her chest start to rip open a little.

"Then where is he?"

"Far away."

"Dead?" Bilbo bit down upon her bottom lip hard at the thought of Thorin being dead. It was an unbearable thought.

"No, not dead. Just far away."

"Why? Doesn't he want us?"

_Oh, sweetheart_, Bilbo moaned silently, feeling tears prick behind her eyes, _you he will want with all his heart. It is _me_ who he cast from his side forever and has banished from ever seeing him again on pains of death_.

"Mama?"

"No, that's not it, darling."

"Then why isn't he _here_, with _us_?" Frodo demanded his young voice angry.

"He can't be sweetheart. He has duties and responsibilities that must come before us. He can't help that he can't be with us."

"What duties? What responsibilities? To who? And why are they more important than _us_? His family!" her little lad demanded frustration and hurt laced thickly in his young voice.

"His people, dear one." Bilbo sighed softly. "When you are older you will understand everything. When you are older you can go and meet him."

"What if I don't want to?"

"What?" Bilbo felt her heart shards constrict at her son's words.

"What if I don't want to meet him, my father? And why should I? Why should I when he thinks of his duty and responsibility above those who are his family."

"Oh Frodo." Bilbo whispered as she blinked back tears in the dark, "I wish I could make you belief that your father is so much more than that and that he would put you above his duty and responsibility in a heartbeat." _If he only knew about you…_

"Then why doesn't he?" Frodo grumbled before exclaiming, "And what about you, Mama? He has to put you above his duty and responsibility too."

"He might have, once, but now…" Bilbo shook her head. Her son was still far too young to know everything about his unusual family situation. "Please, dearest heart, know that when you and your father meet he will love you with all his heart. Just give him the chance to do so… please, for me?" Her request was met with silence and it made her heart shards wring and twist in pain.

She heard movement from the bed opposite hers and then a small body sliding underneath the covers of her own bed.

She wrapped her arms around her tiny son, tucking his head beneath her chin.

"How do you know, Mama?" Frodo asked in a small voice as he wrapped his arms around her neck, "How do you know he'll love me? What if he does not?"

"Than your uncles will beat him stupid." Bilbo replied sounding far more aggressive then she means to.

Frodo giggles at the thought of his usually quite friendly and gentle uncles beating anyone stupid before whispering

"They know my father?"

"Very well in fact." Bilbo assured her son, "and they will be with you when you are to meet him. As will Gandalf."

"Gandy, really?" the boy sounded brighter for a moment before his voice grew quiet and unsure once more, "but what about you, Mama? Won't you be with me too when I go to meet him?"

"I – I," Bilbo bit down upon her bottom lip, trying to think up a reason as to why she would not be with him when he finally met his father. Maybe when he was older she would tell him of her banishment but right now… "Of course I will be dear heart. We'll all go and meet your father together."

"Like one big family." Frodo mumbled softly a wistful note to his voice as he yawned loudly.

"Yes, one big family." Bilbo muttered as Frodo curled up against her chest and fell quickly into a deep sleep while his mother lay awake stewing over her life and what a mess it was still in.

Bilbo threw an arm over her eyes and tried to sleep and not dream of grand halls filled with treasure, of a dragon hissing cruel words that made her doubt her king's love for her, and of a King who broke her in so many ways that it was miracle that she had continued on living.

Only for her son. Only for their son.

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**Author's Note:** Yes, I gave Frodo the middle name of Thorin. I don't know why, I don't even remember writing it, I just reread this chapter and went 'Oh, ok' and couldn't be bothered taking it out. It could be argued that Frodo might make the connection that Thorin is his dad because Bilbo gave him his name as his middle name because while Bilbo doesn't like talking about Thorin directly, Frodo still knows about him because Bilbo's (and the other four dwarves) told him bits and pieces of her adventure.  
I like to think that he thinks, at the moment at least, that he has Thorin as a middle-name because his mama wants him to grow up to be a strong, loyal and honourable person, as he perceives Thorin to be. That's my thoughts and I'm sticking to them. Also as smart and perspectives as Frodo is, he's only ten - I don't know what ten years old is in hobbit years but think of him as being a over-intelligent seven year old.

I was wondering, and keep in mind that this won't be written for quite some time, but would any one be interested in reading about Bilbo's pregnancy/return trip to the Shire as well as Frodo's childhood? I want to write about it after I'm done with this fic but I'm just curious if any of you would be interested in reading about and if so, if you had any particular ideas about what you would like to read in it. Let me know :D


	20. By Greener Paths

**Chapter Twenty**

**By Greener Paths**

Radin looked upon the rolling green hills covered in vibrant coloured flowers and at the wide meadows and fields. This place was beautiful, breath-taking even. His mother and sisters would love it here.

"Beautiful place." He said to his brother on the horse beside him, "Mama would love it here."

"Aye," His younger brother said as he shifted unhappily in his saddle, "she would."

"When you two mongrels are done admiring the view…" Bovin voice snapped at them from where the rest of their party were moving down the brilliant green hill. Radin watched as Ranon face twisted in anger and quickly placed a hand upon his younger brother's arm.

"Calm yourself, little brother. Now is not the time."

"Whenever will it be?" Ranon growled before turning his horse to follow the rest of their party.

"I don't know," Radin sighed to himself, coaxing his own horse to follow after his brother's, "I really don't."

Radin found it very hard not to laugh when he realised the Bovin had gotten them quite utterly lost in this beautiful green land. Not that he minded one bit, this place was truly beautiful and he could happily be lost in this place for days, weeks even.

"We could always ask for direction." Ranon muttered from beside him causing Radin to snort.

"As if Bovin would ever lower himself to that level. Remember dwarves have stubbornness issues."

Ranon sniggered and grinned widely back at him, causing Radin's heart to warm with pleasure at seeing his little brother so carefree and happy. This place seemed to be healing his younger brother of all hurt and anger.

They rode on over the green hills, not seeing or hearing any life besides from the singing of birds and rustling of small furry creatures running through the rich, green grass.

"Where is everyone?" Ranon asked looking around him, his face filled with bewilderment. Both he and Radin had grown up in a bustling town and so were unused to the quiet of the country, even with all the years of travelling the wildness behind them.

"Don't know." Radin said with a shrug, "maybe these Halflings don't exist."

"Hush you two," Bovin snapped back the two brothers. "The Halflings do exist."

"May haps they do," one of the dwarves, one with a thick black beard and missing his right eye commented, "but may haps they live 'ere no more."

"Are you doubting my information, Divil son Diror?" Bolan snarled and the dwarf hunch down into his saddle.

"No sir, of cose not sir. I was jus' saying may haps the Halflings don't live 'ere no more, is all." Divil muttered.

Bovin glared at his company of dwarves and two mongrels.

"Listen to me, all of you. When I say that we're in the right place and that these Halflings exist, then they..."

"Have you ever seen one, Master Bovin." Ranon interrupted Bovin and Radin fought back a sigh.

Bovin scowled at Ranon.

"I have not. But I do not doubt of their existence but you, yourself, are very welcome to return to Lord Bzog and tell him of you doubt of the existence of the creatures that brought about the death of his father, Azog the Defiler and his great warg. Would you like that, mongrel? To meet Lord Bzog in person?"

Ranon opened his mouth to retort but stopped when Radin elbowed him hard in the ribs. His brother glared at him for a moment before ducking his head, muttering under his breath.

"What was that Mongrel?" Bovin growled.

"I said 'no sir', sir." Ranon snapped, his fists turning white as they tighten on the reins of his horse.

"Good mongrel. Now keep that mouth of yours shut or I'll muzzle you." Bovin sneered before kicking his pony onwards down the path.

Ranon's glared at his back while Radin sighed as he watched some of his brother's old fury creep back into his face.

"Come on, little brother. Let it go, enjoy the scenery." Radin begged quietly. His brother grunted under his breath before spurring his horse on.

They rode onwards for another hour before they came across the first sign of intellectual life. A windmill, smaller than any windmill Radin had ever seen before was standing in a field of wheat. It was painted white with a thatch roof, its sails moving slowly around in gentle circles in the breeze.

"Maybe here would be a good place to ask for directions." A dwarf with a heavy yellow beard commented to Bovin who let out an aggravated growl.

"Fine, see if you can't…"

"Who ya then?"

Radin almost fell out of his saddle at the high-pitch voice speaking seemingly out of nowhere, near to the ground. On a second look about, Radin and the rest of his company all saw the speaker, leaning upon a spade and looking up at them with a frown.

"That's – that's a Halfling?" Ranon whispered his eyes wide with shock and confusion as he took in the little creature.

"I guess so." Radin replied as he also stared at the odd little creature in question.

The little creature would barely reach the top of his waist and maybe only up the shoulders of one of his dwarf companions. It had a head of thick curly brown hair with two pointy ears sticking out from the sides of his head. He – and Radin was only guessing that the creature was male, for he lacked any hint of a beard - was stocky and round of middle. But truly the oddest feature about the tiny creature was his feet, which were bare and quite large in comparison to his height, with thick brown curls covering the top of them.

"I asked who ya were? Ya realise ya trespassing, docha?" the little creature snapped up at them in its high-pitch voice, it brown and chubby face crumbled in annoyance.

"We're very sorry for the trespassing upon your land," Bovin replied silkily, "but you see, we are quite lost."

"I'll say," The creature snorted, "we're pretty far off from every which way 'ere. Where ya heading?"

"Hobbiton, my fine sir, to visit an old friend of mine?"

"That old friend of ya's wouldn't be mad ol'Baggins, would it?"

"Ah, yes, I do believe it would be." Bovin said looking maybe a tad taken aback by the bluntness and wily-nilly nature in the way the creature simply gave away crucial information for their mission.

The creature shook his head in disbelief, before giving a sigh.

"Go back the way ya came, back to the fork in tha road ya came to, go left stead of right, that'll take you through to Bywater and from there to Hobbiton. With ya beasts, you should get there by tomorrow eve."

"I thank you kind sir," Bovin replied with a wide grin that quite terrified Radin and for a dreadful moment, as he watch Bovin reach into his jerkin, he feared for the Halflings life, fearing that Bovin was drawing a dagger. But Radin let a small sigh of relief pass his lips as Bovin merely flipped a coin at the Halfling who caught it with a mixed expression of surprise and intrigue.

"Alright men, you heard the good fellow." Bovin barked and his dwarves turned their ponies head's back in the direction they had come.

Just as Radin was about to do the same with his horse he heard the strange little creature, after watching it in amusement as it took a questioning nip of the gold coin Bovin had flipped him, muttered under its breath. "More dwarves invading Bag End. Wait til Master Sackville-Baggins hears about this." before the strange little fellow stomped off back towards his mill, disappearing almost immediately into his wheat field.

"Why do I have a feeling Bovin is going to regret not killing that Halfling?" Ranon whispered causing Radin to smack him hard over the back of his head.

"Watch your tongue, why would you think such a thing?"

"Didn't you hear the Halfling? He said he was going to tell his Master of our meeting and that we're on our way to see this Baggins fellow. First rules of kidnapping, you make sure no one knows it was you who done it. You leave no evidence that will lead back to you. And if you do, you kill whoever has seen you."

"RANON!" Radin snarled, "What would you know about kidnapping? That isn't – that's not, I mean…"

"Yes dear brother? What is this then?" Ranon asked in a sickeningly sweetly tone, a mimic of Bovin's tone moments before.

"Shut it Ranon." Radin snapped as he kicked his horse into a trot.

"I'm just saying…"

"I know what you're saying Ranon and I don't like it, so shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you. I hate this job enough as it is without you saying foul things like murdering innocent people and so on."

His younger brother fell thankfully silent while Radin sat in his saddle quietly fuming.

Terrifyingly he could see the sense in his brother's words, could see how dangerous it could potentially be to leave the Halfling alive to speak to his master or anyone about their visit to his mill but when he had joked with Ranon about asking a Halfling for directions the thought of having to murder them to keep them silent had never crossed his mind and it disturbed him greatly that it had crossed his younger brother's mind.

What was he going to do? What was he going to do?

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be a part of any of this. He just wanted to have his family's freedom restored to them and be able to live their lives in peace and relative comfort.

Would they never be free? Would they never be safe? Would he and Ranon have to continue on with this kind of work to ensure their families freedom and safety?

Radin didn't know and in truth, his heart didn't want to know.

Clucking his tongue, he allowed for his horse to break into a gallop, allowing the wind to blow in his hair, he felt almost as if he was free, just for a moment, he was free.


	21. Darkness Descends upon Green Hills

**Author's Note:** Yes, I've update early. Well, I felt like it, its a long weekend here in OZ, so no work for me today but also because someone drew a fanart inspired by this fanfic :) 'Bounces up and down, clapping hands in glee'  
On Archive Of Our Own, a lovely person by the penname Shivi has drawn so truly beautiful and sweet fanart that was inspired by this fanfic :). If you have a free moment, you should check it out because it truly is beautiful, lil!Frodo is adorable.  
/works/835299

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Darkness Descends upon Green Hills**

Bilbo carefully stretched her arms above her head before she gently rubbed the nose of the pony she had ridden upon to and from Brandy Hall.

"Good boy. Good boy Spirit." She whispered softly as she pressed her lips to the pony's velvety nose. She smiled softly before moving around to Spirit's side, reaching up to help Frodo slide down from the pony's back. Her son slipped easily into her arms before he too went to give Spirit's nose a pat as well as an apple that he had at some point snuck into his pocket, obviously waiting for a moment to slip it to the pony.

Bilbo ruffled his hair before turning her companions.

"Thank you, you two for escorting us back home safely." She said to Saradoc and Paladin as they walked over to her once they were done talking with Hobbiton's stable master. "Would you like to come up to Bag End, stay the night and return home in the morning?" she added causing her two cousins to grin.

"Hoping you would ask something like that." Paladin stretched his arms above his head, "been awhile since we've had some of your lovely cooking." He added and Bilbo rolled her eyes, though inwardly she was pleased. She had grown used to loudness and being surrendered by multiple relatives all at one time during hers and Frodo's two week stay at Brandy Hall.

"You don't visit us nearly enough," Saradoc had informed her when he had come to Bag End to invite her and Frodo to come and stay at Brandy Hall and visit her Brandybuck cousins. And a lot of her Took cousins too, she quickly discovered upon arriving, for the many Tooks, upon hearing of her being in Brandy Hall had taken it upon themselves to visit. They had thrown a great party for her and Frodo two days before they were meant to return home to Hobbiton.

Bilbo wasn't sure if the farewell party was fully intended to be seen as a farewell party or rather as an invitation for her to stay permanently with her Brandybuck relatives.

They and her Took relatives knew or at least could see, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, how dreadfully unhappy she, and Frodo as well to a lesser extent, were living in Hobbiton.

It wasn't the gossip, for she had put a stop to that a few years back when she threaten to have Lobelia Sackville-Baggins ostracize if she didn't keep her big and wicked mouth shut, that made her life in Hobbiton unhappy.

It was nothing in particular that made her unhappy, nothing but the constant feeling of danger, of trepidation and the feeling that an adventure was waiting to snatch her up at every bend in the road.

_This is no one else fault but your own Billanna Baggins,_ she thought as she took hold of her son's hand and with her cousins walking behind her, allowing for her to lead the way for Bagshot Row and Bag End.

_You were the one who stepped out your front door; you were the one who allowed yourself to be swept up into a world of adventure and danger. You were the one who stepped out upon the road, who took those first few steps and before you knew it, you were swept into something that was so above your silly little head that you are now so completely ruined that you are paranoid over everything._

Bilbo shook her head, shrugging her pack more comfortably onto her shoulders and together the four hobbits walked up Bagshot Row.

Her father along with the Gamgees family welcome them back with opened arms and wide, beaming smiles.

The warmth Bilbo felt during these moments helped to combat the still gnawing fear within her gut. Her fingers felt less inclined to inch for her magic ring tucked safely away in her vest pocket where she had once more taken to carrying it when before in her early days of returning to the Shire she had locked it away in a trunk with what few possessions had returned with her from her adventure. But upon discovering that her lad had learnt to pick the locks and she had caught in red handed in the act of trying to pick the lock of that particular truck – and she had fairly good idea as to who it was who had taught her son that particular skill and she was going to be give him such an earful the next time she saw him – she had removed the ring, which had returned to safe keeping over her waistcoat pocket. Her little sword Sting now sat in a corner of her private study and her mithril coat was tucked safely away in her wardrobe, far out reach of little hands as well as the hands of the one who placed it there.

Bell Gamgee and her daughters had cooked up a splendid meal for the return of Bilbo and Frodo, which was much appreciated as Bilbo had felt less than inclined to cook after a day of riding and her cousins weren't complaining from the lack of her cooking. Any good cooking was good enough for them.

Bilbo was pleased to see that Frodo had brighten some since their return to Bag End as he was speaking animatedly with young Samwise, who was such a nice and sensible lad that Bilbo was grateful her son had found a true and loyal friend in him.

Frodo did not have many friends in Hobbiton. He was well liked among his Took and Brandybuck cousins, but even without the nasty rumours running about these days, the parents of Hobbiton still kept their children well away from Mad ol'Baggins's lad.

Luckily for Frodo though, Sam Gamgee and his sibling were a loyal and true bunch and stuck by his side so that he never felt lonely even though now other hobbit children refused to play with them as well.

It hurt Bilbo deep within her heart and as much as she hated the thought of leaving Bag End she was seriously starting to consider moving somewhere close by to either Buckland or Tuckborough. She didn't believe her father would complain overly much and the change of scenery might do him some good. She would miss the Gamgees of course, but knowing them as she did, she wouldn't be all that surprised if they moved to wherever it was she ended up living. They were a funny, loyal sort of family and Bilbo was grateful to have them a part of her life.

So smiling, she allowed herself to be drawn into the warm folds as Bell and her daughters bustled around her kitchen as if it was their very own. They were around often enough that it might as well be, Bilbo thought with a grin.

Her father was settled comfortably in his chair side by side with dear old Roper both puffing away on their pipes, chatting merrily about their younger days and how times had changed since then. Personally Bilbo felt there had been very little change from their younger days to the days that were currently passing them by.

But she made no comment and continued to simply allow herself to be wrapped up in the warmth of friendly company, enjoying having her son being happy when he had been so quiet, almost sullen during his last day at Brandy Hall and on their return trip home.

The pain of not knowing his father had passed for now and for the moment he was once more than content with his lot in life. Bilbo wasn't sure for how long but for now as long as he was content and happy, so was she.

Billanna wasn't at all surprised when her two cousins didn't leave straight after second breakfast the next day but instead hung around Bag End well after lunch admiring her various maps and books. If they hadn't been interested in such things when they visited her as young – younger – hobbits Bilbo may have been suspicious of the two of them but as it was, she was simply pleased they were still interested in her maps and books. Saradoc in particular.

He had always had a brain that was good a calculating and planning ahead. And Paladin, Bilbo was sure with time, would be much the same. Both hobbit fellows, with time would make their respective fathers and families proud for when the time came for them to take the titles of Thain and Master of Brandy Hall.

Though, Bilbo thought with a small, amused smile as she watched the two hobbit's break into a rather childish argument over one of her maps, the two of them still had plenty of growing up, to do still.

She shook her head at the two hobbit men before she started to wonder where her little lad had run off to now.

She hadn't seen her son since lunch and he hadn't appeared for afternoon tea and though she wasn't quite worried about him yet, it was starting to grow dark outside and she would like to have some knowledge as to where her son was before night fully fell.

But before she could investigate any further as to where her mischievous lad might have disappeared off to there was a loud knock on her front door.

She frowned.

She hadn't been expecting visitors this late in afternoon and none of her neighbours, say the Gamgees, ever knocked so loudly or heavily.

She opened her front door and immediately found herself fighting back a groan as she did so.

"Good evening, Lotho, how may I help you?" Bilbo asked with an exasperated manner. She knew she was being quite rude but since Ruby Baggins tea party seven years ago she had all but refused to speak to a Sackville-Baggins any further than the necessary pleasantries.

Lotho Sackville-Baggins would have been a rather handsome looking hobbit if it weren't for the fact that he always looked as if he had something unpleasant stuck right up under his nose. Bilbo supposed this unfortunate expression might have been caused by her and her breaking of his nose when they were in their young tweens, but given that his personality was just as nasty then as it was now, Bilbo hoped it had simply been the wind and it had changed his face to suit his horrid character.

He sneered down at her, something that she hated greatly, and stuck his thumbs into his expensive yellow waistcoat pockets beneath his brilliant emer – _grass_ green coat.

"I honestly do not know how you live with yourself." He said without any of the necessary pleasantries.

"And I can honestly say I wonder the same thing about you Lotho Sackville-Baggins." Bilbo replied tartly, desperately wanting to slam her front door in his face, maybe even break his nose again but much to her growing aggravation the damnable hobbit strode into her front foyer as if it were his very own. And the way he looked at it made it seem as if it was. He said as much with his next sentence.

"Should have been mine, all mine." He shot a nasty look back at where she still stood by her front door, glaring back at him.

"Well, it isn't. So please, if that is all, please leave."

"No that is not all, so no, I will not leave what should have been rightfully mine."

"Someone's a sourpuss." Bilbo sighed heavily. She had hoped the two of them would have the sense to stay well out of this. But no, there they both stood in the entrance of her front foyer, smirking widely at Lotho.

"Sounds almost as if he feels rejected but correct me if I'm wrong Saradoc my dear fellow, but to be rejected you must first feel love. And I don't believe there was any love on Mr Sackville-Baggins part."

"Nor on our dear Aunt Billanna." Saradoc agreed as he and Paladin crossed their arms across their chests.

"So why does he feel rejection? Not because," Paladin gave a theatrical gasp and looked at Saradoc with wide eyes, "he wouldn't be so vain as to feel that the loss of owning this fine and beautiful hobbit-hole was far more potent than never having Aunt Billanna's love to begin with."

"You know, Paladin my old friend, I do believe that is very much the case." The two hobbit men grinned mischievously back at the red eared Lotho. Lotho opened his mouth as if to make some retort in return only to be stopped by the sudden appearances of Bilbo's father.

"What-what are you two mischievous – mischievous youngsters doing here… still.?" Bungo Baggins grumbled as he hobbled slowly out into the front foyer. "Don't – don't you have families of your – your own to annoy now" He glared wearily at his daughter's cousins before noticing that there was yet another relative invading his house, this time one on his own family's side.

"What-what are you doing here, nephew?" Bungo frowned at Lotho whose ears had turn an even brighter shade of red colour.

"Visiting, Uncle Bungo." Lotho replied stiffly causing Bungo to snort. He had once been fooled into thinking that his nephew's son was a good and well-meaning fellow who suffered just like everyone else in Hobbiton from that mother of his. But he slowly – too slowly, for maybe if he had seen it faster, his daughter wouldn't have run off with her dwarves, to come back almost a year later with a broken heart and swollen belly – he had seen Lotho for who he truly was.

As nasty of temper and wicked of tongue as his mother, he was by no means a suitable match for his daughter and Bungo was happy to allow for his daughter, if things should occur in the future how she hoped they would, to make Frosco and Ruby Baggins's children the heirs to Bag End.

He listened without hearing his nephew's son flounder about for an excuse for his unexpected (and unwelcome) visit this late in the evening. His daughter and her two cousins watch on with a great deal of amusement, clearly taking more delight than they really should of in the hobbit's discomfort.

Bilbo could quite happily start laughing at how easily her father could make Lotho Sackville-Baggins flounder with only a few words. And she would have most likely have done so if she hadn't heard what sounded like the neighing of a horse.

A horse?

There were no horses in Hobbiton, maybe in some of Farthings but no, not in Hobbiton, there was no need for them.

Had she really heard a horse? No, she was sure she had.

With a frown starting to form between her brow, she walked away from her front door (which she had closed upon the appearances of her father) and her father and their visitors and down the long corridor leading to the almost redundant backdoor of the hobbit-hole.

The back door was rarely ever used, hence why it had become redundant. It opened out to the back of the hill that was nothing more than a grassy slope. No one built their hobbit-holes on this side of the hill for there was very little to look at, preferring to have their view to overlooking Bagshot Row and Hobbiton beyond, not fields and woodlands.

Bilbo's fingers were itching once more towards her magic ring when she reached her backdoor.

_It's only a lost horse, silly_, she chided herself crossly, but her heart was pounding within her chest for reasons she could not fathom. She hadn't felt this worked up since, well, since her horrid adventure.

Bracing herself, she wrenched the old and ill-used door open and peered out. No horse in sight or anything else really, as it was growing quite dark.

She swallowed deeply and shook her head at her own silliness before moving to close the door once more.

"Excuse me, miss." Bilbo's whole body stiffen and her heart nearly jumped from her chest but she congratulated herself for not screaming.

She glared out into the dim evening light and quickly spotted the speaker and discover, even though she knew the moment he spoke, that that was no Hobbit moving towards her.

What was a dwarf doing here?

"Yes?" she asked stiff, making sure her back door was placed firmly between herself and the approaching dwarf, his thick beard was black and heavily braided but Bilbo saw no silver or gold weaved into it, so he was of no royal blood nor was he solider if she was remembering Balin and Dwalin teaching correctly.

The dwarf bowed to her but not nearly so deeply as any of her dwarves had done when they were first meeting her. Even Thorin's bow had been deeper than this strange dwarf. She didn't like him one bit, he had a nasty glint to his eyes and even though he was holding his coat close to his chest, she had seen his many, many weapons.

"Good evening, Halfling Mistress, I am Bovin." Halfling? Bilbo forced herself not wrinkle her nose before noticing another difference between this dwarf and her own. He hadn't offered her his service. She shrank further back around her backdoor.

"Please," the dwarf, Bovin, said taking a step forward, his voice becoming silkier, "please, don't be afraid Halfling maiden, I merely wish to ask you a question and then I will be gone." He pressed a hand to his heart but Bilbo was sure he was lying. She wished desperately that she had her little blade with her.

"Alright," she said sticking her chin out, reminding herself that she had face goblins, spiders and a Dragon for goodness sake so she should not be afraid of this strange and dangerous dwarf. Cautious, yes. But afraid? No. "what is it that you wish to ask?"

"I am looking for someone; I'm hoping you might know where he is?"

"Looking for someone?" Bilbo frowned while her heart thumped madly against her rips, "in the Shire. Why would a dwarf be looking for someone in the Shire?"

The dwarf chuckled.

"Yes, I do know that it is strange, but this is a very special case. I'm looking for a Bilbo Baggins. I was informed that he lived at Bag End at the very top of Bagshot Row."

"Who-who told you that?" Bilbo whispered panic thick in her voice.

"No one of conscious." The dwarf replied as he watched her closely and Bilbo forced her face to become neutral.

"Well they told you wrong, now please you said once I had answered your question you would…"

"Bilbo? Bilbo where are you?"

Bilbo was going to kill her cousin, though she might end up being killed first herself.

She could only let out a small squeal as she and her door were shoved roughly against the round wall as the strange dwarf came striding into her home.

"Get-get out!" Bilbo wheezed, completely winded and her head throbbing from where she had hit it against the wall of her hobbit-hole.

"You lied to me little one." The dwarf said softly as he swung her to her feet, his fingers biting into her arm, "understandably I suppose. Who are you Halfling? His wife? Daughter? Mistress maybe?"

Bilbo squirmed against his iron grip on her arm, stupid tears causing her voice to fail her as her cousins and father came to see what all the commotion was about.

"Oi Ruffian, get your hands off our Aunt!" Paladin snapped furiously.

"Tell me where Bilbo Baggins is and I'll happily let go of your aunt." Bovin replied almost civilly.

"Ah…" Came the responses from Bilbo's father and two cousins. Bilbo begged with her eyes for them to remain silent only, not every one of them got the message.

"What are you talking about, you Ruffian," Lotho snorted with distaste, "you're holding Bilbo Baggins. See Billanna, this is what happens when you consort with other races. This was why I came over this evening, to inform you that this – this dwarf and his troupe came trespassing upon our, _our_ Sackville-Baggins lands asking for you, you! We will not tolerate it!"

"You are Bilbo Baggins." Bovin said as he looked down at her ignoring the rest of her cousin's rant while Bilbo herself wanted to kill him in the slowest, possible way she could think of.

"Yes, what of it?" she snapped as she wrenched her arm finally free of his grip, "who wants me and why?"

"You're female?" Bovin seemed to be having a hard time understanding this small detail about her.

"Obviously." Came Paladin unhelpful snort.

"Paladin for once in your life, shut up." Bilbo snapped at him before turning her attention on to Bovin.

"Mister Bovin, I'll ask you again, who wants me and why?"

The dwarf shook himself and simply smiled which made Bilbo's inside curl. Without a word, he lifted his fingers to his lips and before Bilbo could do anything he had let out long and sharp whistle, very much like the one she had been taught to use by Dwalin and Nori when she wanted to call the dwarves to her without actually calling out.

"Run…" Bilbo whispered to her cousins and father.

"What?"

"Don't ask questions, just go. Go!" Bilbo shoved her cousins to force them to run but it didn't matter for suddenly they were surrounded by dwarves, holding axes and after sharp weapons.

"What's all this Bovin?" A yellow haired dwarf asked looking at the strange assortment of hobbits they had surrounded.

"This," Bilbo squirmed furiously as she was once more grabbed by Bovin much to her cousins and father fury, "is Mr Bilbo Baggins."

"Yah, sure? Looks more like lass to me." Another dwarf commented with a bark of laughter.

Bilbo gritted her teeth and glared at each and every dwarf standing in her back hall. There was well over a dozen of them.

"Feisty little thing." Chuckled another dwarf.

"Gimme one your swords and you'll get to see just how feisty I am." Bilbo snapped as she once again pulled herself out of Bovin grip.

"Sir," Bilbo blinked at the strangely soft and quite un-dwarf-like voice, peering round the group trying to spy the speaker, "sir, we were meant to find a Mister Bilbo Baggins, weren't we? Not a miss? She mightn't be the right Baggins."

Bilbo could have kissed whoever had spoken; their soft, shy words could be what would get her and her family out of this sticky situations.

"I can bet you she is the Baggins you're looking for." Lotho snorted.

"LOTHO!"

"What, Billanna, brought this upon herself the moment she ran out her front door to tramping all over the country side with dwarves."

"Is that so?" Bovin asked with a wide grin while Bilbo thought of the many, many ways she would love to kill him.

"Yes," Lotho said with a self-important nod, "disappeared without a word on our wedding day, was gone for months with bunch of dwarves. And that, that isn't the worst of it. The worst of it is she came back wi…

"Lotho Sackville-Baggins, I will kill you!" Bilbo threatened making to lunge at her ex-husband-to-be.

"Yes, Mongrel, I do believe we have found the right Bilbo Baggins." Bovin said with triumphant punch in the air before he made to grab Bilbo. Only this time she was ready for him and ducked out of the way and aimed a painful kick at his shins before running for it, hopping her cousins and father would have the brains to do the same and if not, that the dwarves would only want her and would leave them all well enough alone.

She heard Bovin howl of pain and outrage and the sound of heavy feet chasing after to her. If she wasn't so scared, she would almost find this fun. It was almost like she was playing that old game she used to play with her younger dwarves during a lazy afternoon.

"Mama?"

Frodo…

"Frodo?" she had thought him outside or over at the Gamgees but no her son was standing in her study's doorway, holding Sting in his hand.

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Stand behind me." She said as she snatched her blade from his hand and shoved him behind her just as the first of her intruders stumbled upon them.

"Get out of my house." Bilbo growled as she held Sting out the way Kili had taught her. It felt strangely reassuring to be holding her blade, ready to defend her child and home from these intruders.

"Aw, how sweet." One of the dwarves drawled. He was almost a big Dwalin and was just as heavily pieced and tattooed as Thorin's Right-Hand man, but with a far less honourable air about him. "A letter opener? Lil'lass is going to attack us with a letter opener."

"I've killed many orcs, goblins, wargs and monster-sized spiders with this letter opener. Would you like to feel its sting like so many other did before they died?" Bilbo snarled causing the dwarves who were cornering her to look at each other with a hint of nervousness.

"Come, come." Bovin said stepping forward through the dwarves, one arm dragging her father along with him, a dagger pressed to his throat, "There is no need for such sharp words."

"Let him go." Bilbo whispered staring at her papa in horror. He was remarkably calm for one in his situation.

"Come with us, that is all I ask."

"Will you leave my family be?"

"Of course…"

"I mean it," Bilbo took a step forward, shoving the Sting's tip under Bovin's nose, "If I come with you, you are to leave my family be, you will not harm a single hair upon their heads, or so help me."

"Or you'll what?" Sneered a dwarf nearby.

"I have powerful friends, Master Dwarf." Bilbo said letting her voice fill with the strength and courage that she had long forgotten she possessed, "I have very powerful friends indeed. I am friends with Master Elrond of Rivendell, Beorn the Shapeshift. I am friends with the Great Eagle of the sky and I am friend of wizards, both of colours grey and brown."

"But you are no friend of Thorin Oakenshield." Bovin remark slyly as he pushed her father into another dwarf's hands. Bilbo felt as if the dwarf had physically slapped her. In fact, it would have hurt less if he had.

"I have no need of a friend in the King under the Mountain." Bilbo replied stiffly.

"Indeed?" Bovin said moving forward to grab her again only to jump back with another yelp of pain.

"You stay away from Mama!" Frodo snarled, brandishing a large piece of firewood in both of his hands and holding above his head. His blue eyes were narrowed and his mouth was twisted into an angry grimace. He looked so like his father. And she knew and she felt as if she was being stabbed threw her belly, that she wasn't the only one who saw the resemblance.

Bovin's eyes widen for a moment before they started to glint dangerously once more. And he wasn't the only one.

"Don't…" Bilbo said as she grabbed from back to her, "Don't even…" she held Sting out in front of them both.

"I'm afraid, Master Baggins that I cannot agree with your previous demands."

"Oh, I really think you can." Bilbo replied, holding Sting tighter in her hand, ready to strike, her eyes darting around her, seeking out those who would most likely try and snatch Frodo away when she finally fought Bovin.

She could hear her cousin, at least Paladin and Saradoc struggling against the dwarves whom held them. From Lotho she could only hear complaints and whining to be released.

"No, I really think not." Bovin said taking a step towards her.

"Try." Bilbo said as she pressed Sting's tip against his chest. Bovin blinked in surprised as he felt it piece slightly into his skin.

"Lass," Bovin said as he took a small step back, "you are seriously trying my patience."

"And you are trying mine!" Bilbo close to shrieked back, "Now, get out of my _house_!"

One of the dwarves made to lunge at her, but stopped with a yell of pain as Sting flashed against his cheek causing him to stumble back, clutching his bleeding face.

"Next time it's your eye." Bilbo growled at the still cursing dwarf, as she swung Sting back in front of her to keep Bovin from coming any closer.

"Is there any way for us to come to some kind of agreement that doesn't involve the loss of limps?" Bovin asked pleasantly.

"Hmmm, only if you leave and never return." Bilbo replied.

"No, I can't agree with that." He shook his head with a chuckle, "For if we leave, my employer will only send more who will be, I assure you, far worse than us to come and retrieve you, little Halfling. You and your royal mongrel of son."

"Why you…" Bilbo cried making to lunge at him before remembering she had to protect her child only it was too late and all hell seemed to break loose.

She yelled, swung her sword about with some satisfying results, fought and bite but it was all for naught when she heard her child crying out in pain.

"No, please." Bilbo whispered when she saw Frodo kicking and fighting in Bovin arms, "Please, don't. Please…" something hard and solid hit her across the back of her skull and blackness descended upon her.

_Help… Thorin…_

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, it's finally happened. Bilbo and Bovin finally meet. And I know a lot of you didn't want them to, but the story wouldn't work any other way, I'm sorry to say.

It might be a little while til my next update (another reason why I've updated early). And by a little while I mean, maybe you'll be waiting for chapter 22 for maybe two weeks. No reason besides I still need to get current chapters under control. I'm still have a bit of trouble with them. I want to get them under control and get Frodo to where he needs to be, before I update again. So yeah, if you don't hear from me for about two weeks, I'm not dead, I'm just writing badly. Also works been really busy, so I haven't had all that much time to do much writing, so yeah.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope I haven't distressed too many of you with what has occurred in this chapter. Things will work out... eventually.


	22. Whispers in Thou Halls

**Author's Note:** Have you ever gone through phase when writing a story when you read over chapters (or are trying to write a new chapter) and you just keep thinking that it is the most terrible piece of crap you've ever read and you honestly don't know why people are even reading your work and you should just stop while your ahead? Well, from basically this chapter onwards for a number of weeks this fic was making me think these exact thoughts.  
Honestly I had myself in tears thinking that these chapters would ruin this fic and I couldn't understand why all you lovely readers are even reading this dribble and... and yeah, basically I was having a pity session but thankfully I am over that and am happy to report that I've written two chapters (about seven pages each) in two days. Yes, I am finally over that horrid, _horrid_ writers block that was plaguing from months but after many, _many_ re-writes I am now over it and am back to writing huge chunks of chapters in a day :)  
Granted work is about to get busy again, so my chapter writing hours at work might once more be cut down but I'll find a way around that.

But enough about me, has everyone seen the trailer for the Desolation of Smaug? I was all but squealing in my seat a work - everyone a work now knows that I am a complete and utile LOTR nerd and have learnt to leave me be during lunch time because they know they won't get a word of sense out of me because I'll either be writing this fanfic, watching the hobbit trailer or reading something hobbit related - I love it! Yes, there are multiple scenes which we all know weren't in the book or have been altered from how they were in the book, but WHO CARES! It looks awesome! Why must it be six more months before we see it ;_;

Anyway, I'm going to shut up now, sorry for the babbling.

Please enjoy. We're back with Thorin and are introducing the Lady Dis in this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Whispers in Thou Halls**

_Help… Thorin…_

Thorin woke with a start at his great oak desk. What was that?

He rubbed his eyes fiercely, freeing them from the grit of sleep before he shoved himself out of his chair and stormed from his private study, startling the guards who stood on duty outside of it.

"Sire are you…" He ignored them and continued on his path to the destination that he sort.

"Well brother, this is an unexpected surprise." His sister was sitting by her fireplace, a book lying open in her lap, her brow forwarded as she watched him move cautiously into her living chamber.

"You are well?" he questioned as he searched every nock and cranny of her chambers with his sharp eyes for some unknown danger.

"Yes, should I not be?" His sister asked now sounding less surprised now and more aggravated.

"I thought I heard…" he trailed off knowing what his sensible and down-to-earth sister would think if he told her he was hearing voices in his head.

_At least it's not that voice_, he thought grouchily, trying to ignore his sister raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

"Thought you heard… what?" she asked slowly and carefully. While Dis had not seen his short time of being possessed by the gold sickness, she had seen their grandfather in its thrall. She had also been the first to realise that their father was losing his mind after the beheading of their grandfather at the Battle of Azanulbizar.

"Never mind. I'm sorry for disturbing you. Where are the boys?"

"Off hunting, now stop changing the subject. What did you think you heard?" Thorin glared at his sister, his younger sister who glared back at him with equal fire.

"Thorin."

"Dis." He ground back. He shouldn't have to put up with this, least of all from his little sister. He was King under the Mountain for Mahal's sake!

"Thorin start speaking now or I'll tell the rest of your company and I know they'll make you speak." Thorin felt that this was entirely unfair. Not that he'd ever admit it. And it wasn't that he was more incline to speak with his old company, it was just that they had better blackmail material to use against him than his sister currently did to make him speak.

And some were not afraid to use it either. He really needed to write a law where it was the death penalty to even breathe a certain Halflings name.

He winced at the very thought. That would only further taint her name.

Not, he reminded himself quietly, that the name they all knew her by was her true name. Only he knew her true birth name and he kept that name locked tightly within his heart.

"Well, have you decided?" His sister voice broke through his thoughts, "do you wish to speak to me or your old company?"

Not saying a word, he didn't want to give her too much pleasure in winning this particular argument – she and Billanna would get on so… he shook his head forcibly as he sat down in the leather armchair opposite her.

"Now that voice…"

"It wasn't…" Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It wasn't… what? You looked quite worried when you came barraging into my chambers just now."

"I thought I heard a cry for help." Thorin snapped at her, causing his sister to sit back in her own chair blinking at him in surprise.

"A cry for help?"

"Yes," Thorin growled out in frustration, "I heard just for a moment someone, a woman, calling out my name as she cried for help."

"A memory, maybe? Were you asleep at your desk again Thorin?" Thorin threw his sister a disgruntled look, causing his sister to cluck her tongue in annoyance.

"Tho_rin_, you have a perfectly nice bed, in a perfectly nice bedchamber. Use the damn thing instead of your desk as a pillow."

"It didn't feel like a memory or a dream." Thorin grated back at her, deciding ignoring her reprimes for sleeping at his desk again – it was a long standing argument between brother and sister and one that he saw lasting til their dying days – before sighing, "It felt real."

"With how many hours sleep I guess you get in a week, I'm surprised that anything seems real to you, brother dearest."

"Thank you sister, for being so loving and caring, as usual." Thorin shot back dryly. "And that's all you think it is, a memory or a dream even?"

His sister nodded.

"What else could it be? There is no danger here Thorin. And however much they might wish it, there are no dwarrow women calling out your name without a title or other stuck in front of it."

"You are not going to start that again are you?" Thorin growled.

"No, I'm not. I didn't even want to to begin with. I told those old fools on your counsel that you had no wish to marry, that you never did and I doubt you ever would, but does anyone ever listen to Dis? I do believe not." His sister finished rather tartly causing Thorin to see his sister as how she used to be when she was a young dwarrow lass running after him and Frenin through Erebor's great halls before Smaug came and destroyed everything they once knew and loved.

"I listen to you." He reminded her gently.

"Hmmph, only when you feel like it." She replied but her smile was gentle and sisterly and Thorin felt a great peace settle upon his heart for just a moment. Then the moment was gone when he saw a flash of frighten brown eyes and another cry for his help.

"Did you hear it again?" Dis asked him gently.

"Why…"

He thought he saw a thought pass across Dis's sapphire blue eyes before she blinked it away and shook her head.

"I don't know brother."

"Liar." He grunted but he knew he could never force his sister into telling him anything that she did not wish to tell.

"Yes I am, but only because I do not believe you will like what I might say."

"Such as?"

She smiled at him, reminding him of his nephews smiles when they had been caught in the middle of doing something that they shouldn't.

"Brother dear, I am not suicidal. I know which buttons of yours I can push and which I cannot. And this is one of those matters where, no matter how much I might try to avoid it, one of you buttons will be pushed and you will be then figuratively bitting my head off." Thorin simply stared at his sister for moment trying, like he had been trying to do since the moment of her birth, to understand exactly what she was thinking.

"I would…"

His sister raised an eyebrow at him causing him to grumble and slouch in his chair.

"I am your king," he rumbled, "show some respect and be obedient to my commands for once."

"You are also my brother and for the sake of this whole kingdom, I won't. Not until I think you can handle it."

"Dis…"

"I mean it, brother. You know you can't get anything out of me unless I wish to share it and believe me when I say I think it would be best for me to keep my thoughts to myself for the time being."

Thorin sat in his armchair stewing over this while Dis appeared to have returned to reading her book. Not that she really had, she was keeping an eye on her brother. She worried about him. Not because she feared he would become possessed by the madness that seemed to curse the men in their family – no, according to her boys her older brother had already been possessed by the gold sickness for a time. And due to it, he had been forced to face the ultimate consequence of what the gold sickness could do. And because of this consequence he had broken free of the madness and had become the Dwarven King sitting across from her this day.

No, she no longer feared that her brother would succumb to the dragon sickness like their grandfather or the madness like their father.

She knew he thought that was what she worried about, what they all worried about when they asked him if he was alright. He resent them for it, never bothering to ask if this was truly what they were thinking, simply assuming that it was. Her brother was a good dwarf, but an awfully stubborn one when his mind was set on something.

Like his heart.

For that was what they worried about most, Thorin Oakenshield's true friends. Dis did not know the hobbit lass whom had travelled with her brother and her sons and their companions to reclaim Erebor as she never had a chance to meet the lass, but she knew quite a bit about her from her sons'. Kili in particular liked to talk about her, speaking at times as if she was second mother or a younger sister, depending on the circumstances. Fili who was shaping so very nicely into Thorin's heir was much quieter on the subject of their hobbit burglar, but when he did speak of her, it was with a small and wistful smile. She had heard other dwarves speak of the hobbit lass. Balin spoke highly of her, when Thorin wasn't around. Bombur and Bofur spoke of her like she was a little sister to them, or something more for one of them, but Dis had kept this assumption to herself. Kili's young scribe friend Ori, the youngest Ri brother – such a sweet and gentle little fellow, she had almost thump Thorin when she heard that Ori had gone along on his mad venture to reclaim this very mountain – had shown her a sketch he had drawn of their burglar during one of her many visits to the huge and magnificent library of Erebor.

The burglar had a pretty face, a face that held a unique blend of beauty and strength. So very different from a dwarrowdam.

Dis had kept the sketch, for even though she had never met the hobbit lass who had died somewhere on the plains outside Erebor's great doors, she felt kinship with her. For after all, if things had been different, the hobbit burglar might have become Queen under the Mountain.

Dis sighed softly.

But that could never be… unless.

She shook her head. No, it was impossible.

"You think it's her… don't you?"

Dis jumped a little at her brother's unexpected voice breaking through her thoughts.

"Hmm, brother, who?"

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her but he couldn't hold her eyes for long.

"You know who." He mutters as he stares down at his worn, blacksmith hands still more used to wielding a hammer or a sword than ruling a kingdom.

"It has crossed my mind, but it is impossible." She said as gently as she could.

"I don't know why she did it." he sighed, throwing his head back against the back of the armchair and staring up at the rock ceiling of her chambers. "Why didn't she just run?"

"Where to brother? You said so yourself many times that the enemy came from seemingly all directions, where would she have been able to go?"

"She had her ring. Her magic ring. And she was quick and sneaky. If anyone could have snuck off that battlefield, it would have been her. It should have been her."

"Well, maybe she did. Maybe she did exactly that." Dis offered ignoring the fiery glare her brother was giving her. "Or not. Are you never going to stop torturing yourself over this, brother?"

"No."

"Good."

"Thank you sister," He replied dryly, "for being _so_ understanding."

"Always, brother." She beamed at him from over her book.

He gave her a tired glare in return before turning his gaze back on the roaring fire burning in her fireplace.

Dis sat and watched her brother for a few more moments in silence before turning to her own thoughts once more.

He misses his burglar that is all; she tells herself firmly, He feels guilt over her death as he should. That is why his mind is torturing him so; it is nothing more than that.

But deep in her heart, Dis almost wishes it was more than that, for than just maybe the hobbit lass might be alive. It was a beggar's hope, she knew as there had been no signs of the hobbit lass, dead or alive, in over eleven years.

A short time really, by dwarf time, but Dis is certain each year has felt like a century to her brother. And she was sure that the pain of the hobbit's loss will stay with him until the day he died.

Where are you little hobbit? Are you gone from this world forever? Or do you still breathe and live? Do you still think of my brother as he thinks of you?

Where are you? If you are not dead, please come, he needs you more than he'll ever admit even to himself.

Where are you little hobbit? Where are you?

* * *

**Author's Note:** More fanart for this fanfic from the wonderful artist Shivi. She is a very talented artist and you should check out some of her other Fem!Bilbo fanart.

/works/835299/chapters/1613089

With Chapter Twenty-Three: Over the Hills and Far Away we're back with Bilbo and Co to find out what's happening with them.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter if though there was a bit of wait for it and it's probably not really the type of chapter that you were hoping for. I hope you like my Dis, I'm quite fond of her and I can't wait to write more of her, preferably scenes involving her and Bilbo tormenting Thorin. C'mon you all can't honestly say you don't want a scene of Thorin being teased out of his mind by these because you know that they would and gleefully while Frodo and the rest the company look of thanking Mahal that they're not Thorin :)

Bye for now :)


	23. Over the Hills and Far Away

**Author's Note:** I thought that as you were all so patient waiting for me to get my act together these past few weeks, I would reward your patience with another update. We will be going back to one update a week after this I'm sorry to say but I am quite busy at work and I don't have much time to write so I can only handle updating once a week. I am currently writing chapter 28 (finally! You have no idea how long I was stuck on chapters 25 and 26 but I'll explain more about that when we a come to those chapters, but gods the amount of rewrites that I had do for those chapters, makes me want to cry just remembering), and hopefully with the way things are going, I might be able to keep my prediction that I made way back of Frodo meeting Thorin by chapter 30. Fingers crossed lol.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Over the Hills and Far Away**

_Where am I_? Bilbo thought groggily. Her head was heavy and she felt sick in her gut. She could hear the noises of movement, of stomping feet and hooves, of ponies snorting softly and the low whispering of voices around her.

_Where am I_?

She sat up slowly for her brain quickly discovered that she was resting in the saddle of a horse and any jerky movements she might make were sure to make her fall off. Just like she was about to…

"Easy Miss." A large hand caught her hip before she completely fell off the horse.

She blinked, something about the voice sounded familiar and yet it stirred a terrible memory within her.

"Frodo." She croaked as she gripped the front of the saddle with both her hands and tried to force her blurring eyes to focus on something, anything. The light of the sun stung her eyes forcing her to shut them again.

"Your little lad is safe miss; he is with my brother as is your papa. Your cousins are a little way back but I believe they're alright as well, miss."

"Who are you?" Bilbo whispered, her head throbbing so badly that her eyes watered.

"Radin, miss. Radin son of Runira, at your service." She looked at the hand pressed firmly to her waist, keeping her from falling off the horse and knew immediately that it was no hand of a dwarf's. It was too large and the fingers too long, though it was caked with enough dirt and the skin callous enough that from a distance it could have easily passed for that of a dwarf's. A human blacksmith maybe? But he named himself as she had heard all Dwarves to name themselves, only difference being he had named a mother instead of a father.

She wanted to twist around to look at him but her head hurt too much to do such a thing so instead she continued to talk, question rather, because this lad, for he sounded quite young, seemed to be open enough to talk with her.

"Where are you taking me and my family? What do you want?" she felt the lad stiffen against her back but his hand on her waist remained gentle.

"I-I don't know." He replied softly. She could hear the pain in his voice, the indecision in it. He wanted to be here even less then she did, if that was even possible.

"Is my family alright?"

"Yes, miss. Your little boy was crying for you but my brother was able to calm him down. We have a sister of a similar age back home." Radin explained with a hint of shy pride that made Bilbo smile.

"Why are you and your brother here and not home with your family?" Bilbo asked gently and again she felt the lad stiffen.

"Because," he replied wistfully, "if we leave, we won't have any family to go back to. Sleep miss, we have a long journey ahead of us and you will need all your strength."

Bilbo had no wish for sleep; she wanted to find her son and pull him into her arms and tell him everything was going to be alright. She wanted to find those who had stolen them from their very home and yell and scream at them, make them do what was right and return her and her family back home to the Shire.

There were many things Bilbo wished to do instead of sleep but sleep as it usually did, won out in the end and she lay her throbbing head back against Radin's broad chest and allowed for the darkness to consume her once more.

When she woke it was going on dark and they were no longer moving. In fact she found herself lying on the ground near to where a camp fire was burning.

"Mama?"

"Frodo?" she twisted her head to see her son sitting by her side, his face smeared with dirt but otherwise he appeared unharmed. He was also not bound as she had just discovered she was.

Her hands and feet were bound with heavy, thick rope, though she was sure if she worked at it, she would be able to get her hands free and then of course her feet.

"Are you alright, darling heart. Have they hurt you?"

Her son shook his head.

"No Mama."

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief before starting to worry over her father and her cousins. Hadn't the lad Radin said that they had come along on this misadventure?

She sat up slowly and cautiously, her head was still throbbing and with bound wrists the task of sitting up took a little longer than usual.

"Ah, awake are you my dear?" A voice sneered at her and Bilbo fought back the desire to kick the dwarf hard in his shins.

"No thanks to you or your men," Bilbo retorted, "and what's all this?" she gestured at her hands and feet.

"A precaution, that is all." Bovin replied silkily.

"A precaution? What Bovin," Bilbo's eyes flashed as she stared up into the dwarf's dark eyes, "you wouldn't be afraid of a little Halfling woman would you now?"

His slap was not unexpected and if she hadn't jerked her head back when she did, the blow would have been much more severe. Even so, her eyes watered as she spat out the blood that had been caused when her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth.

"Watch your tongue, Halfling or I'll cut it out." Frodo's arms came to wrap around her neck but Bilbo could do nothing more than glare at Bovin as he strode away, barking out orders for the other Halflings to be brought over to where she and Frodo sat.

"Fine pickle we're in." Was Paladin's first comment to her once he and the other three hobbits were marched over to where she and Frodo were sitting by the fire.

"Why didn't you run when I told you to?" Bilbo moaned wincing slightly at the pain she felt from her cheek as she spoke.

Her Brandybuck and Took cousins shrugged and Bilbo felt like thumping them behind their heads for being so loyally stupid. She could hear Lotho muttering darkly underneath his breath but she ignored him and turned her attention to her poor father who looked very weak and frail as he hunched down by the fire.

"Papa? Are you hurt?" she touched his shoulder gently with one of her bound hands. She felt him stiffen before relaxing. But beside for that he made no response to her question.

"Papa?" she looked into her father's face and felt her heart grow heavy. Her father had gone into one of his trances and would not come out of it until his mind felt good and ready. But who knew when that would be.

She sighs softly underneath her breath.

She sat quietly by the fire while her kin curl up near her, none complaining that they were hungry, each realising it would be best for the moment for them to keep their mouths shut.

She watched each of the dwarves carefully, analysing them as she had once done with her old company. Only this time, instead of doing this to help her better understand them, she did so in search for a weakness, any weakness that they might possess. She saw that one was carrying her little blade and fumes that he dared to take it from her home.

Only, she realised, that might work to her advantage. If she could just get her hands on her little blade she might be able to… what?

Get them all away from here safely? Not a chance. She was just one hobbit among five who could not fight. Two who might be of some help in a fight, one who could be helpful if he chose and one who was all but helpless. And then there was Frodo to consider.

She looked down at her brave little lad, who was curled up by her side his head resting on her thigh as he slept.

She frowned as she noticed something glinting underneath his collar. Carefully, so as to not draw the attention of any of the dwarves, Bilbo moved her bound hands to carefully draw back Frodo's tunic. She drew a deep breath inwards.

Her mithril coat. How was it? How did he…

She forced herself to get over her shock at her son wearing the coat and wondering how and when he had managed to slip it on even though she had all but forbidden him from doing so and forced herself to see the positives. The coat would protect her son from almost all kinds harm that could befall on him on this journey.

She would have to talk to him in the morning about keeping the coat a secret for those who had taken them would surely take the coat off him if they knew of its existence.

"You should be sleeping miss." Bilbo jumped and twisted her head around to address the speaker that she would sleep when she wished to sleep. But her voice went dry within her throat as she looked upon the speaker. Even though it was a dark night and the light of the fire was not glowing all the brightly she could see immediately that this dwarf – if he was a dwarf at all – was not normal.

He was too big for one thing, with his limbs being disproportion to his body. He had the height of a man with the build of a dwarf. His face was also odd, a mismatch of conflicting features, human and dwarf.

He seemed to notice her gaze on his oddly shaped face and blushed, ducking his head and making to move away.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Bilbo said quickly, "I did not mean to stare. Please, forgive me for my rudeness."

The oddly formed lad looked back at her, surprise written all over his features.

"You want me to for-forgive you?" he stuttered sounding confused along with amazed.

"Yes, please do. It was rude of me to stare." Bilbo said and watched as the lad's face twisted into what seemed to be smile.

"No one has ever apologized for staring at me before," he admitted as he moved slowly back to her side, "and believe me, plenty stare and point and yell things out and…" he trailed off and ducked his head once more.

"Are you Radin?" she asked, for he sounded very much like the lad she had spoken to earlier that day.

The lad nodded his head vigorously, causing for his long and brutally plaited braid to bounce wildly around his head.

Bilbo could help but smile as she watched his energetic movements and awkwardly held out her left hand, tucking her right one around her bounds.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Radin."

"Same to you miss." Radin said taking her tiny hand in his huge one and smiling shyly at her. They spoke for a few moments more before Radin was yelled at to get more firewood for the fire.

The lad sighed before shooting her a small smile over his shoulder as he lumbered off to gather more wood.

Bilbo settled back against the ground, curling her body protectively around her son and tried to sleep. Sleep did not come easily and when it did come, nightmares quickly followed.

For Bilbo, morning did not come quickly enough.

"Awake are we, little madam?" Bilbo glared over at Bovin, who was smirking down at her.

"Where are you taking us?" Bilbo growled causing the dwarf to only smirk all the wider at her.

"Over the hills and far away from your sweet little homeland, little miss and that is all you need to know." He replied before barking out orders for everyone to wake up and for breakfast to be started.

The camp quickly got moving and far too soon Bilbo found herself being swung once more onto Radin's horse. Frodo was quickly settled in the saddle in front of her by Radin before he too swung himself onto his horse. Radin reassured her that her father and cousins were quite safe; they were in the care of his younger brother and a dwarf friend.

Bilbo tried to keep this in mind, but once the company of kidnappers had started moving her mind quickly moved on to other things, such as trying to figure out where she and her family was being taken, searching for landmarks that she might remember from her last adventure.

She saw none and her stomach tighten with terror of the unknown.

She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Frodo closer to her.

_Gandalf… Lord Elrond… Beorn…. Thorin_, she whispered inside of her head. _Please, anyone of you, hear my pray and come and save my family from whatever fate we will meet at the end of this misadventure. Please, help us. Someone, anyone…_

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**Author's Note**: First off, I really hate Bovin. I swear ever since I created him in this fic I've had nothing but problems when it came to writing chapters that involve him. So from a writers POV he's a terrible character to write for and he's just a terrible character in this fic - he was originally a lot, lot worse in this fanfic but I've tone him down... a lot.  
With the first few drafts of this fanfic, Bovin was sort of my Game of Throne's vent character where he embodied qualities from all the characters I hated in the series. But I had to change from that way of thinking or seriously if I had left him that way he originally written he would have become Middle-Earth's version of Ramsey Snow - Bolton. And for those of you who don't know the show\book series, he's a really, really bad, evil, absolutely horrid character who I want dead. So I thought, no, nope scrape that, I am not having Ramsey Snow anyway near this fanfic, so Bovin got rewritten so now he's sort of a cross between Tywin Lannister and maybe Roose Bolton and a few other characters.  
See this is why you don't watch (listen) to Game of Thrones when writing fanfic that aren't about Game of Thrones, characters just slip in without your notice and start running the show and if you don't stop well... it doesn't bare thinking about.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (It was another chapter that was written multiple times and made me want to cry). Next Chapter we're back with Thorin for a bit (Because I like messing with him and oddly enough he's parts in this arc are actually the most lighten-hearted, which is hilarious and kind of ironic considering his personality, but whatever). Chapter 24:Distractions aren't Always Good Things (I seriously need to come up with better chapter titles. If any of you think up a chapter title better than this one or passed ones, I'll - I'll give you a preview of the next chapter) will be updated sometime next week.


	24. Distractions and Unwanted Memories

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Distractions and Unwanted Memories**

Thorin looked up from his mountain of paper work and turned his bleary-eyed in the direction of raised voices moving steadily in his directions.

_Good, a distraction_, he thought trying to contain his gleeful grin at the thought of getting out reading and signing papers, if only for a few moments.

"Cousin!" Thorin had barely stood up from his chair when his huge and larger than life cousin came striding purposefully into his office, followed closely by Dwalin and Balin.

"Hello Dain. Wasn't expecting you til Wednesday." Thorin greeted his cousin.

"Thorin, it is Wednesday." Balin offered with a slight roll of his eyes.

"Is it?" Thorin asked feeling a little sheepish but hid it well behind his customary scowl.

His large cousin however did not seem to notice his sheepishness and instead simply threw himself into the nearest chair in Thorin's office.

"Bovin's at it again." Dain boomed once he had down his first mug of ale that Dwalin had offered him.

"Bovin? Bovin son of Brovin?" Thorin asked as he sat back down at his desk, his brows forwarded. "Didn't you banish him?" Thorin knew that there was a long and somewhat ugly history between his cousin and Bovin son of Brovin. He himself had met the dark haired dwarf several times during his years of exile and hadn't thought much of the dwarf.

"Banished," Dain grunted, "shouldta slit the blighters throat."

"Why?" Thorin questioned, "What's he done?" _now_, he added silently to himself. He noticed that both Balin and Dwalin were both glaring at Dain, trying to convey in their own way that they wanted his cousin to remain silent about whatever it was that had brought him from the Iron Hills to Erebor.

"Consorting with Orcs, for one." Dain rumbled with disgust, his scarred face twisted into a dark grimace beneath his heavy mane of hair.

Thorin felt his face twist into a dark scowl. How could any full-blooded, self-respecting dwarf consort with Orcs of all evil creatures in Middle-Earth?!

"And not just any Orcs, either, cousin." Dain added with a severe note to his thick tone.

"What do you mean?" Thorin demanded, ignoring Balin deep, long-suffering sigh.

"Bzog, Azog the Defilers spawn."

Thorin's hands curled into fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. Would he never be free of Azog, the Defiler? Even in death, the pale orc still tormented him.

"Bovin," Thorin took a deep breath to calm the rage that was brewing within his chest, "Bovin is consorting with that-that creatures spawn?"

"According to my sources, yes." Dain replied with a sharp nod of his head.

"For what reason?"

"Business partners of some kind. Bzog ás apparently hired Bovin and his dwarves to retrieve sum'thing for him."

"What? Retrieving what?" Thorin growled out in frustration.

Dain simply shook his head.

"Didn't hear that part," Dain admitted looking apologetically back at him, "only that it is something of great importance. And Thorin…"

"Dain…" Balin warned stepping forward, giving the Lord of the Iron Hills a hard look.

"What Dain?" Thorin demanded, ignoring the two brothers who were glancing at each other with worried expressions.

"He wants to finish what his father started, to end the line of Durin."

"And he thinks he will, does he?" Thorin asked, forcing himself to keep his face neutral.

"With whatever he gotten Bovin to retrieve, he certainly thinks he will."

"Where's the wretch now?"

"Bovin? Somewhere over the Misty Mountains, I believe. Bzog?" Dain simply shrugged his massive shoulders, "my source could not tell me, no matter how he tried to keep track of him and his pack."

Thorin ran a hand over his scarred face.

He thought that it was all over. That all the reminders of his past had either been destroyed or resolved after he had taken his rightful place as King under the Mountain.

"I've sent dwarves after Bovin." Dain was saying and Thorin forced himself to focus upon his cousin's words.

"Will they catch up to him?"

Dain shook his head ruefully.

"But they will catch the bugger on his way back and then," Dain eyes glowed like burning coals as he cracked his fists, "then he'll tell us where the foul bastard is."

"And what it was that he was hired to retrieve." Thorin growled.

"Might find it on him." Dwalin added, "Might be able to use it against the orc."

"We don't even know what it is," Balin said patiently, ever the diplomat, "it might not even be a weapon of any kind."

"What else could it be?" Balin rolled his eyes at the three dwarves who were all looking back at him with sceptical looks.

"Knowledge, information, could be anything." Balin retorted, his mind conjuring up a multitude of ideas as to what Bzog had asked Bovin and his dwarves to retrieve. "Could be anything." He said again, "we must keep an open-mind about this."

"A dwarf who is already considered a traitor by his kin is said to be consorting with one of our greatest enemies. I don't know how much of an open-mind one can be about such a matter, brother." Dwalin replied.

"I meant we must be open-minded about whatever it was Bovin has been sent to retrieve. It might be something we least expect."

"Like?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Balin said with a shrug of his shoulders, even though his mind was still conjuring up ideas with every passing moment "but that is why I say we keep our minds open to whatever it is and not simply class it as weapon. Knowledge can be far more dangerous than any kind of weapon in the world."

"Fine." Thorin said with a growl before turning his attention to Dain, "I want you to bring the traitor and his men here as soon as your dwarves capture them."

"'at was the plan." Dain said as he stretched his arms above his head, causing his shoulders to pop, "In what condition?" he asked with raised eyebrows, obviously hoping for permission to beat Bovin a few inches from death, keeping him alive just enough to tell them what Bzog was about.

"In whatever condition you find them." Thorin replied making both Dain and Dwalin grumble. "I want them brought to me with the ability to speak."

"They'd still be able to speak; jus' walking might be an issue or two for 'em." Dain said with a grin causing Dwalin to give a loud bark of laughter.

Thorin rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

"Bring them to me in the condition you find them in, don't add to it in anyway."

"You're taking all the fun out of this, cousin." Dain rumbled, sounding quite dishearten by it all.

"He always does, getting soft in his old age." Dwalin replied in a mock-whisper, his eyes glinting as he snuck a glance at Thorin who was mulling over how best to lodge his letter opener in Dwalin's skull.

_Would just bounce off anyway, what with how thick his head is, and break a perfectly good letter opener as the only result_, he thought with a slight grin.

Dain left Thorin's study shortly afterwards, followed closely by Balin and Dwalin while Thorin sank back into his chair, his mind drifting over all that Dain had informed him.

A part of him – the warrior and unforgiving prince part of him – wanted to take up his old armour and Orcrist and hunt down the foul spawn of Azog the Defiler. The king part of him knew that while he trusts Dain and his information, he still needs more information to go on before he can go charging off in the vague direction that Bzog might be in.

What he really needed right now was to come up with a strategy, a course of action. He really would like to come out of a battle with a white orc being able to walk on his own two feet. Because all his confrontation with Azog, they had been spurred of the moment on his part and had almost always very nearly resulted in his death.

_And you don't have your burglar around to save you from death now_, he thought grimly, feeling the familiar surge of raw pain shoot threw his heart at the thought of her.

She too, had never had much of a plan whenever she went up against Azog and yet she always ended up better off than Thorin himself, she at least managed to walk away… at least the first few times…

With everything else she did, she always had some kind of plan worked out in her head beforehand. With Azog? It had been pure instinct that had driven her after him when he had foolishly tried to take the Pale Orc on after their escape from Goblin Town.

His fight with the Pale Orc had lasted mere seconds before he was knocked down and unable to rise again. He would have died if she hadn't come running after him, running after him and into the certain jaws of death.

She had showed her true bravery to him that night. Her bravery, her stubbornness, her loyalty, her foolishness.

In fact, he did believe he heard Gandalf call her a Fool of Took on their way to Beorn's house for her actions. He had meant to ask her, as he had done when she first reappeared to them after being lost during their captivity by the goblins, why? Why she had done it?

Why had she risked her life for a dwarf who had not once said a kind word to her, had offered her nothing but criticism and harsh words, even in moments when she deserved praise?

Why had she put her life on the line for a dwarf who would have, at that moment in time, left her fate unknown, without so much as a second thought, if she had not returned to them when she had.

He shook his head, sighing.

Now he could not go a single day, hour, without thinking of her. How dramatically ones thoughts about another living being could change.

He hadn't fallen in love with her that night but her actions and her words had started those feeling growing within his heart and soul.

Again, he shook his head.

Now was not the time to dwell upon her. He had too much to do, to think over, to plot. She had no place among these thoughts.

So wincing slightly as he did so, he locked her memories, her face away in his heart once more. With each time however, it was growing harder and harder to do so. He didn't know why. Why it was suddenly all the harder to stop thinking of her and it seemed to be growing all the worse.

He would close his eyes and he would see hers, wide and frighten, calling his name, calling for him to help her.

He lifted himself out of his chair, his hand moving to his inner coat pocket. Once his hand had closed around the small object within his pocket he moved over to his wine cabinet and poured himself a large mug of his favourite wine before returning to his chair behind his desk.

After taking a sip of the wine, he pulled out the only thing in his possession that truly meant something to him these days.

A simple ring hanging from a cord necklace.

It had been hers. Or more correctly the ring had been her mother's wedding band. She had worn the ring around her neck for all of their adventure until she presented it to him as return gift for the mithril coat he had given her as her first payment for being the companies' burglar.

She had said it had been her good luck charm throughout the whole journey and that she hoped it would do the same for him.

He had been, admittedly, more than a little taken aback; he knew how much the ring had meant to her. It had been her last true link to her mother and home and yet she had presented it to him with a bright and warm smile, her eyes full of certainty and affection.

He had been close to throwing it away after her betrayal but had found himself unable to do so and as the last of the gold madness left him, he had held on to the ring closely as a reminder of everything he had lost because of his pride and the sickness of greed.

He stared down at the simple band of gold with a heavy heart before returning it to its rightful place within his inner coat pocket, right over where his heart beat.

_I fell in love with you._

_I don't know when or how and I don't know why but I will love you til the day I die._

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**Author's Note:** So Thorin has finally learnt about Bovin and his association with Bzog and probably more importantly the existence of Bzog, which he didn't know of before.  
I can't say I'm entirely happy with this chapter. It was one of those chapters that suffered many rewrites - Bovin doesn't even appear in this chapter and he still affected my writing. Bloody dwarf!  
But I can't bear to rewrite it again just to pacify my OCD and I did promise that as soon as I finished writing Chapter 28 I would update.

Oh yes, the ring that Thorin has, is obviously not the One Ring, but rather its a reference to a hobbit fanfic that I was planning to write before I started writing this, which is essentially the hobbit with a fem!Bilbo. But as I haven't written any of that fic up - been too caught up with this one for starters - I've been taking elements that I was going to have originally in that fanfic and threw them into this one. Bilbo and Lotho getting married and then not because Bilbo does a runner on their wedding day to go on her There and Back Again adventure is a good example of me nicking something from that other fanfic idea and throwing it in here. Bilbo's mother's ring was another idea that I had but I've only just know managed to work it in. In some ways it might be a bit late in the game to be throwing in new plot points, but it's so small and I hardly think Thorin would be boasting that he has the wedding of the mother of his one true love who in the eyes of his people is a traitor. And Bilbo doesn't think about the ring because it brings back too many hurtful memories. The ring will make a reappearance at a later date. It really wasn't a prop that I threw in there for the hell of it, I just couldn't find a place to put it any earlier.


	25. Live like Kings

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**Live like Kings**

In the few weeks he had known her, Radin had to admit he was impressed by the hobbit women's persistence and strength. Not to mention her ingenuity. He was sure that if she didn't have her father, cousins and son with her, she would have escaped from their grasps in a heartbeat. But as she did, she came up with various ways of trying to get her family safely away from her captives. But, by no fault of her own, the hobbits were always ended up being caught at the last moment and the hobbit lass was beaten for her disobedience. But she never broke. She took each beating in silence and when it was over, she glared back at her captors with such defiance and regality, that Radin wouldn't be surprised if she was secretly a queen. Well, she was mother of a bastard child of a king, so he supposed she had some right to have a regal air about her.

He wondered how long Bovin and the others would put up with her repeated attempts to escape with her family as he highly doubt that she was going to give up any time soon. She would continue to try and escape with her family until the last breath of life left her body.

She was brave for one so small. Not only that, she was kind. To him, to his brother and for that he liked and admired her all the more.

Guilt over what he knew would happen to her and her family ate at him during every waking hour of every day they travelled closer to their journey's goal.

With each passing day he wanted to tell her the truth about their destination, the truth of what she and her family would be facing for at this moment the hobbit appeared to think that the Dwarven King of Erebor had something to do with her abduction.

She question Bovin constantly over who was behind her kidnapping, demanding to know if the Durin King had something to do with it.

Bovin had only smiled a self-satisfied, knowing smile back at her. But still she tried, every moment of every day, she tried.

Radin glanced over his shoulder, back along the rocky and unstable path that they were currently marching along through the misty mountains to where the hobbits were moving miserably behind him.

The two younger male hobbits moved well enough. As did the third when he wasn't whining over lack of food, comfort and everything else under the Sun. But the hobbit lass, with her father and child, moved much slower. It was her father that was slowing her down the most for she refused to be separated from him.

With each passing day the old hobbit grew all the more frailer and weak. His mind was, it seemed, to be in an even worse state than his body, for it wander and left him as nothing better than a staggering, breathing shell.

His slow progress was slowing the whole expedition down and Radin feared what would happen to them all if they reached the meeting point that had been organised between Bovin and Bzog well after the date that they were due.

If he had been able to, he would have had all the hobbits on top of ponies but due to the path that Bovin had chosen to take them through the Misty Mountains, ponies and horses were unable to come with them due to the treacherous path. This meant that the hobbits had to walk, on their much shorter legs, with the old one coming nearer and nearer to his death with each step he took.

Radin wonder if the old hobbit would even live to see their destination. It might even be a mercy if he didn't, for him to die along this mountain pass and not have to face the cruel intent of the Orc pack that awaited his daughter.

Camp was called as they came upon a small mountain river, bitterly cold but utterly refreshing when splashed against wind bitten faces or drunk down dry, raw throats.

The hobbits huddled together, the youngest and the oldest in behind the other four, the brave hobbit lass at their front glaring daggers at them all.

Radin turned his attention away from the hobbits and focused on helping with setting up camp and getting dinner ready.

* * *

"W're moving too slowly, cousin." Bodiol son of Borgial grumbled to Bovin as he bit into a piece of tough bread.

"I know." Bovin growled as he shot a glance in the direction of the six hobbits, unsurprised that the little female met his gaze and glared furiously back at him.

She had spirit; he'd give her that, even if she was the most obnoxious, infuriating little wrench in all of Middle-Earth. If he did not have a job to accomplish that involved her being alive and unspoilt, he would have throttled her by now. Her and her brat. But both were worth a pretty penny, so killing them would not work in his favour. The only reason he hadn't yet gotten rid of the other four Halfling was due to the simple fact that they slowed her down. Her escape attempts probably wouldn't have failed if she was simply trying to escape with her son. The other four Halflings messed up her escape attempts every time and for this reason, and this reason alone, was why he hadn't killed them yet. And you never know, they themselves might be worth something on the market.

Even so, they were moving far too slowly for his likening and the hobbit lass was growing more and more restless and uncooperative the further they moved into the mountains.

He worried that she might try and pull yet another escape attempt and that this time she might just manage it. There were lots of places along the mountainous road that they were marching along for six silent footed little creatures to hide undetected by pursuers, even with members of the group being very old and very young.

He glanced back at the Shirelings, the Halfling lass once again meeting his gaze with a heated glare.

"Little bitch is getting on my nerves." He growled to Bodiol who grunted in agreement.

"S'll be in Bzog's hands 'oon enough."

"Not at the pace we're currently moving at." Bovin snarled angrily. "We're expected to hand her over before summer's ends but at the rate we're moving at, it'll be well into autumn before we reached the meeting place."

"And e'll be out 'ooking for us be'ore then." Bodiol added with a small shudder.

"That he will. That he will. And who knows what he'll do to us then." Bovin growled. They needed to speed up their progress or it would be their heads that would have the bounty over them.

"And I don't 'ant to find out." Bodiol grumbled. "'umething needs to be done Bovin or it'll be our heads rolling, not the King under the Mountain's."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bovin growled in response as he absently rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a moment to think."

"Don't s'pose we could just leave all but the wench." Bodiol grumbled.

"We need the lad." Bovin grunted.

"Do ya think that Durin's King will really believe he sired the brat?"

"A half-wit could tell the brat's his. Even if he is a mongrel." Bovin snorted in disgust.

"Even so, he 'ight try an deny it."

"He won't." He cousin looked at him questioningly, "the dwarf's too damn honourable for his own good. He'll take one good look at the lad, hear where we found him and the wench's name and we'll be able to name our price for the brat's head. Durin's line holds their family line close, and I'm sure the lad will be no different."

"Even if he's a 'ungrel bastard?"

"Even if he's a mongrel bastard." Bovin grinned wickedly, "Especially when he's the mongrel bastard son of the King under the Mountain."

"He might just pay us 'ore to 'imply ring the brat's neck." Bodiol muttered.

"No, not this King. Besides," Bovin grinned at his cousin, "it'll be more fun to watch the King be humiliated by this mongrel in front of his whole kingdom then for us to be paid to quietly snap the boy's neck ourselves. We'll make ourselves a pretty penny parading him in front of everyone in that damnable mountain. Then when he can't bear the disgrace and shame anymore, Thorin Oakenshield will pay us whatever we ask to be rid of the brat. Only once we have the money, we'll leave him with the brat and he can have one of his men to snap the brat's neck."

"Well, at's the brat taken care of. But w've still got the issues with 'is mother. And how we going to deliver the mother without Bzog finding out about the son? 'e'll be wanting the brat once 'e finds out who the father is."

"We split up before we reach the meeting place. One group goes and stops a short distance from Erebor, with the brat and the other Halflings and I and another group will take the wench to Bzog. Once we've delivered her to Bzog, we'll back-track to you lot, head to Erebor, throw the brat into bloody Oakenshield's face, get our money and get out of there. We'll be living like Kings before winter's out, cousin my friend." Bovin said with a wide grin.

"Bzog aint gonna appreciate not being given the brat long with the wench." Bodiol rumbled as he took a long swig of strong smelling rum from his water skin.

"How will he ever know about him? Oakenshield will try and hush it all up."

"t'ese t'ings have a t'ancy to get around, no matter how hush hush it is."

"What does it matter, in the end?" Bovin asked as he pulled out his pipe, filled it with pipeweed and lit it, "by the time he does hear of the brat, we'll be long gone and with any luck, he and Oakenshield will have killed each other before they give us more than a moment's thought." He blew out a large smoke ring as he smirked.

"As I said, my good friends, we'll be living like Kings by winters end. And we'll have killed two birds with one stone by the end of this venture."

"You've given 'is a lot of t'ought, 'aven't you cousin?"

"That I have." Bovin smirked. "That I have." He blew another smoke ring into the night, his mind plotting away his next move in this very complicated game that he was playing.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter (and the next) very nearly killed me to write... almost to the point where I was ready to simply give up on this fanfic completely. I haven't, obviously, but these next few chapters really did make me come close. It's all Bovin's fault!  
He didn't much like the fact that I didn't want him to become Middle-Earth's own Ramsey Snow/Bolton so he made himself even harder to write - like he wasn't a hard enough character to write to begin with... the Ar$$hole! - Honestly I want to kill him, the miserable sod! And his cousin. Don't ask me what accent Bodiol has or why he talks the way he does. I think he got dropped on his head one too many times as a kid and he bit some of his tongue off when it happen and that's why he talks in the stupid way he does. Honestly, I had no control over the way he talks, he spoke and I wrote and this what I ended up with. I honestly hate them both.

Anyway, I should probably stop whinging about my own characters. You all are probably extremely tired of reading my rambles on how much I hate Bovin and so on and are more interested in finding out when the next update for this will be and how far I am with the story.  
Well, the next update will be in a weeks time and I'm currently writing chapter 30 which is proving to be difficult for a whole world of other reasons, though its still all Bovin's fault, of course.

Bye for now! Reviews are loved and if you have any questions about this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'm happy to answer them the best I can, though without revealing too much of the plot, of course :D

Bye


	26. Leave me Empty, Leave me Numb

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Leave me Empty, Leave me Numb**

**Steal Away my Heart and Sun**

Bilbo woke with a sharp hiss of pain as something hard and solid collided with her back, effectively winding her.

"Wake up! Wake up little Halfling wench!" another swift kick to her back caused her to let out another hiss of pain and for Frodo to let out a small squeal of fright.

"I'm awake. Stop it. I'm awake." She sat up despite the protesting pain in her back and glared up at the dwarf who had kicked her awake.

He sneered down at her before sizing her arm and dragged her – and Frodo who was clutching to her tightly – to where Bovin was standing, barking harsh orders in Khuzdul.

Bilbo picked up a few words, but nothing that would paint her a clear picture as to what was happening.

She noticed that the rest of her family were not being dragged after her and Frodo, instead they were being forced to go in a completely opposite direction.

Her stomach churned in fear as to what might happen.

"What's going on?" She snapped at Bovin once she and Frodo had been brought before him, "What's happening?"

"A change of plans." Bovin replied simply, a nasty grin appearing beneath his heavy black beard.

Bilbo felt cold sweat trickle down her spine.

"What kind of changes?"

"We've noticed that we are falling behind schedule with the current pace we're moving at, so we've thought of a change of action that will keep everyone happy and us on schedule."

"By everyone you mean yourselves." Bilbo snapped.

"Why, of course," Bovin replied silkily as he smirked down at her.

"What are these changes of plans that will keep everyone – and by everyone you mean yourselves – happy and on schedule?" Bilbo demanded, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around Frodo, her eyes no longer looking up at Bovin's smirking face but rather at a dwarf who was standing nearby. Her eyes focused upon his waist were a little blade hung from his belt. Just a little closer…

"Separation." Bovin stated with a smug air about him, "We'll move faster and you might behave yourself more if we get a little separation between you and your brat."

Bilbo felt her heart stop at his words.

No, no, they couldn't! They wouldn't.

She hugged Frodo closer to her, her eyes darting between Bovin and Sting. Just a little closer…

Her frighten look seemed to please Bovin for his smirk only grew wider as he moved closer to them. Bilbo took a several steps back, Frodo hugged to her side, his face pressed against her chest.

"I'm warning you." She hated how weak and squeaky her voice sounded. She tried to make herself stand up straighter and appear warrior-like but she was so tired and weak from travelling in such rough conditions that she could barely muster a stern grimace.

Bovin let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh wench, what could you possibly do to us?" his smirk quickly turned into a look of surprise when he suddenly had an elven letter opener stuck under his nose.

"Why you little…" the dwarf Bilbo had just stolen Sting from started to snarl as he made to grab her only to stumble backwards clutching bloody fingers or rather the bloody stumps of his fingers.

Bilbo felt her stomach flip as she stared from the dwarf's bloody stumps to his severed fingers lying on the rocking mountain path.

Oh… dear… She hadn't meant to do that! Cut him. Yes, to make him back off, but cut several of his fingers off? Eh, not quite. She was going to pay for this now.

"You truly love making things difficult for yourself don't you, wench?" Bovin stated and Bilbo was surprised to see that he was laughing, even though it wasn't a particularly nice laugh as he shoved the yelping and cursing dwarf back, snapping at him in Khuzdul to get a grip on himself.

"Let us go." She wouldn't beg, even now she refused to beg for their release, she would stand tall – as tall as a hobbit could stand – and straight, she would not, no she refused to kneel before these evil creatures and beg.

Frodo clutched to her side even more tightly as Bovin beared down upon, causing for Bilbo to lift Sting – its blade still dripping with the dwarf blood – and stuck it under Bovin's chin, bringing him up short.

"Let us go or you'll be losing more than a couple of fingers." She growled.

"So much fire." Bovin replied with a silky smile, his eyes looking her up and down in an admiring fashion, "So soft in appearance but filled with a flame that burns brighter than even dragon's fire. I can see now what he saw in you to make him forget his royal ways, to forget the disgrace and shame you would bring him with the mongrel growing in your belly."

Bilbo forced herself not to flinch at his words, even though each one struck her like a physical blow.

"It doesn't hurt that you are such a pretty little thing, in your own queer little way. A pretty little plaything." He let out a harsh but amused chuckle, "For what more could you have possibly have been to him? For him to toss you aside without out so much as a backwards glance, to never come looking for you after his Kingdom was restored to its former glory. Do you think he would have kept you little Halfling? If he had known of the bastard whelp you have clutching to your side? Maybe he would have. The whelp, I mean. But you? I can't imagine what he might have done with you. Turn you out into harsh, cold world? Or kept you locked away, hidden from all eyes, dark in a dungeon, deep within the mountain, far from the Sun and green earth that you love so. Or maybe he would have done neither. Maybe he would have shoved a sword through your belly the moment he learnt of the whelp." He smirked as she gasped out loud at the horrific images his words were causing to appear within her mind.

Thorin at his most terrible, his face twisted with unprecedented rage as he thrust Orcrist straight into the swell of her belly, the swell that contained the life of their child. Their child… Frodo.

"No." She whispered fighting back bitter tears, "no, he wouldn't. He would _never_ do that! And if he tried, I would never have let him. I would never have let him or anyone harm _my_ child."

"How far," Bovin smirked and Bilbo swallowed thickly, "how far would you go to protect your child?"

"I would die for him." She said as she met Bovin straight in the eye, "I thought that that would have been obvious by now."

He nodded his head as he stroked his beard.

"That it has, that it has. That is why separation has come to our minds."

"No, please…" she started but he waved her off.

"Your desire to escape is of course fuelled by your desire to protect your child and family and possibly yourself. Your escape attempts – along with your father's inability to move very fast or any given day – has slowed us down considerably, so a solution to our problem has been thought up. We separate you from your child."

"How will that help?" Bilbo cried as she clutched Frodo to her with one arm and held Sting underneath Bovin's nose with the other, "If you do that I will be only become even more determined to escape. In fact by separating me from my child you will only be helping my escape as I will have nothing tying me back to you."

"Ah, but if we separate you from your child and family, how will you know where they are? How will you know how to find them?"

Bilbo felt her heart drop down to her toes.

"I will find them." She whispered threw gritted teeth.

"Will you though?"

She glared up at him, hating him with every fibre of her body.

She tightened her grip on Sting, wishing she could simply drive her little blade straight through Bovin's smug smile.

"I will, just watch me. And then I will make you wish you had never stepped foot in my hobbit hole. That you had never entered the Shire at all! I told you before that I have powerful friends Bovin and I'm sure, once I tell them what you have done, they will be only too happy to help me make you pay." She snarled and for a moment she felt powerful, felt in control as she watched his smirk slip for the first time and for a moment, he looked afraid. But only for a moment as the next she was being seized from behind, Sting wrestled from her grasp. But she cared not for the loss of her little blade but rather for her child who was wretched from her side.

"MAMA!"

"No! Give him back! Give him back!" She didn't care that she was screaming, begging, as she struggled against the arms that held her.

"Give him back! Please! Give him back!" She struggled and fought, biting, scratching and kicking as she watched her son being pulled away from her, away from her and to where the rest of her family were being ushered down another path in the mountain. They were looking back at her in horror and confusion.

"Please." She looked at Bovin, her eyes begging, "please, I won't run, I won't fight, I'll obey everything you say but don't take him from me, please."

The dwarf let out a bark of laughter before yelling out a few more commands as his party broke into two.

Bilbo felt tears roll down her cheeks as she watched her child fight and scream as he was dragged away from her. Her only consolation was that Radin was with him and after a few moments had swung her screaming child into his arms and held him close as her lad kept on crying out for her.

"MAMA!"

Words by now had all but failed her and all she could do was kneel – her captors had sensed that her fight and fire had all but left her and so had let her be – and sob heart-wrenching sobs.

"Up you get Miss Baggins," she wasn't sure how long she had sat there when she felt large, kind hands lift her up and that she was suddenly being carried as if she was a small child again.

"Ranon?"

"Yes, miss." She nodded numbly, her tears had all dried up and her throat and chest hurt from her sobs but otherwise she was numb, numb to everything. She didn't bother opening her eyes as she lay her head against the boy's wide, hard shoulder.

"I'm never going to see them again, am I? My child or family?" She felt the boy hesitated as they continued to move.

"I-I don't know, miss."

"That's a no, isn't it?" she whispered through white lips, "I thought as much, feared as much. Will they be killed? My family, I mean?"

"No, I don't- don't believe so. My brother, he wouldn't allow it."

"But you will allow for me to die?" she asked with a humourless laugh.

She felt the boy stiffen and felt immediately sorry for speaking such harsh words.

"I'm sorry, forgive me." she paused as she took a deep breath, "why haven't you gone with your brother" and my child was left unspoken between them.

"Bovin wouldn't – he didn't allow for it. Radin, he almost didn't go until he heard that you and your lad would be separated, he thought it best if he went." Bilbo gave a tiny nod of her head, she appreciated that.

"When you see him again, thank him for me. But may I ask where they are being taken?" please, don't let it be a worse place than whenever I am being taken, please Mahal, I beg of you.

Ranon hesitated again before speaking in a low tone, for her ears only.

"S'pose no harm in telling you, not now. Erebor, is where you lad and family are being taken, to be bargain with the King with."

"Oh." Was all Bilbo could think to say before all of her strength left her and she fell into a numb slumber.

Erebor, her son was being taken to Erebor. Oh Thorin, be kind, be gentle, please look at Frodo, not as the bastard son of the burglar who betrayed you but as the son you always wanted from the woman who loves you more than life itself.

Kili, Ori, Bifur and Bofur protect my child. You all promised that you would. If Thorin refuses to see him or acknowledge him, one of you… no Bofur take him, raise him as your own. I know you will, you love him like he's your own son; I know that you will raise him well, if Thorin fails to accept him.

Much confused was to be had that night when camp was called and the hobbit wench was placed down from Ranon's shoulders and on to a blanket. Many dwarves muttered under their breaths at the wench's queer smile as she slept. None could wake her from her slumber and no shaking could remove the smile from her lips.

"Leave her be." Bovin snorted, "the wench will wake when she wakes. And she can go hungry for all the trouble she has caused us too."

So she and her queer smile were left alone, for the dwarves to ponder and not understand. And none of them would until it was too late.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter was incredibly hard to write and the first few drafts, it was very, very dark. A bit too dark really, which is how (and why) I ended up with this final draft.  
Bovin's is an arse in this chapter, but what I had him be the first couple of drafts was simply evil and as I've said before I have no interest in having a Ramsey Snow in this fic. Not, of course, that I had him do anything that that bloody Ramsey does in the books and TV show - no I could never write someone that evil, never in my life, not without feeling like a seriously sick and twisted individual. Honestly I don't know how G.R. doesn't feel sick writing about the things Ramsey does. It just... it's too revolting and horrible and way, way evil. It's just... Ramsey needs to die... horribly! - but he was still pretty evil in this chapter originally. So I decided to scrap it - this was the chapter that really made me realise that I was taking Bovin down the road that I didn't at all like and I gave him his complete rewrite (such an oh so fun process. Scraping a character and then rewriting them, though 'he's basically the same as he was but just less... Ramsey like) and decided that watching GOT while writing this was a very bad idea.  
If anyone is curious about how this chapter was originally meant to be like, let me know and I'll give you a run down of it.  
If I get enough people asking, I'll do up a brief summary of the first draft and post it at the end of the next chapter.

Anyway, so Frodo (and the others) have be separated from Bilbo and are now on their way to Erebor. We're going to be staying with Frodo for quite awhile because I've found I quite enjoy writing for the little rascal and he is, by far, one of the easier characters in this fanfic to write for. He and Bilbo, I just seem to be able to click with, it's fantastic. So yes, we're going to be inside his head for quite sometime, with maybe a couple of visits into Radin's head because I love the big lug.

I'm still writing chapter 30 *pulls face and groans* and am stuck with writing for Thorin who is by far one of the hardest characters to write for - once again, it's all Bovin's fault! Because everything that goes wrong with this fic these days is Bovin's fault whether he's present/mention or not, it's his fault!

Alright, so I'm going to shut up now, because I'm rambling... again - Gods help when I finally get around to writing my own books, I'll have an author's note at the end (or beginning) of every bloody chapter.  
I just like to share and explain the processes and developments I go through while writing this fanfic. I know a few readers find my notes amusing, which in turn amuses me. I in turn love reading other author's notes, especially when they're talking about the development of a chapter or even the story...

And I could ramble on for another couple of paragraphs, lol, but I will leave you good people in peace. Until next chapter, all of you keep safe, I hope you enjoyed this new instalment to the story and please, if you have a moment, check out the new picture the very talented and kind artist Shivi has drawn for this fanfic. Her art is gorgeous! You can find her and her art on Archive of Our Own. So please check it out and leave her a comment.  
Thanks for reading. Bye for now!


	27. Unconventional Brothers

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**Unconventional Brothers**

Frodo's throat ached from all the screaming and crying he had been doing for the last few days. A part of him feels silly for acting like such a baby with all his screaming and tears but given that he had just been forcibly removed from his mother's side, with no indication as to when he would see her again, he felt he had every right for screaming and crying his head off. Only now his face stung due to wind blistering his tear streaked cheeks, his throat was raw and his eyes were red and itchy.

He rubbed the heel of his hand across his raw eyes, sniffling a little still.

"Hey, don't do that." Frodo pulled his hand away from his face to glare half-heartedly up at the person leaning over him, looking down at him with concerned muddy brown eyes.

"Why not?" Frodo grumbled as he purposely lift his hand back to his face and started to rub again.

"Now come on." A large brown hand gently caught hold of his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. Frodo fought the urge to kick the oversize dwarf.

"Come on, you'll be hurting your eyes with all the rubbing you've been doing of them." Radin chide gently as he pulled him into his lap.

"Don't care. They itch."

"They itch because you've been crying." Radin replied his tone gentle and sympathetic.

"Course I been crying," Frodo hiccupped, wiggling angrily in Radin's lap, "you took me away from Mama! I want Mama!"

"I know mim ze, I know." Frodo twisted in Radin's lap, a scowl written all of his face as he cried.

"I'm not little."

Radin looked at him incredulously.

"You understand Khuzdul?"

Frodo shrugged his thin shoulders impatiently.

"A little. Mama taught me some, so did Gandy and my uncles."

"Gandy?"

"Gandalf."

"Oh, do you know what his name is in Khuzdul?" Radin asked curiously. He had never met Gandalf the Grey but he had heard a lot about him from his grandfather and from people – dwarrows, men and elves – all over the land talk about him.

An old man dressed in grey, with a staff made out a twisted tree branch. He did not look like much apparently, but in a sticky situation, you wanted him at your side.

"Yes," Frodo said as he puff out his chest proudly. "Tharkûn. And Mithrandir is his name in Sindarin."

"I didn't know that." Radin admitted sheepishly while Frodo only beamed more widely back at him.

"Have you ever met Gandalf?" Frodo asked. Radin shook his head.

"Well, my mama is a very good friend of his, so he'll be really and truly mad when he finds out about all this."

"I bet he will." Radin replied with a groan, pinching his nose as he tried not curse his ill luck in front of the youngster.

"But I won't let him be mad at you Radin, I promise." Frodo said softly as he gently touched his cheek with one of his tiny hand.

Radin gave the little boy a forced smile while his inside did somersaults and backflips. He had been wreck with guilt and worry ever since the company had broken in two groups. He hadn't wanted this, for the group to be split into two. He hadn't wanted to be separated from his younger brother who was now travelling to the arranged meeting place between Bovin and Bzog with Frodo's mother and Bovin. He hadn't wanted Frodo to be separated from his mother, but really, it was for the best, for if Frodo had stayed with her, then he would be killed alongside his mama.

At least now, heading to Erebor, the boy and the rest of his family might have a chance, a chance to live and be safe. For despite the whispers Radin had heard spoken around the campfire after the hobbits had fallen asleep about the Durin King will most likely have the hobbits killed for some past crime that one of their kin committed against him a few years passed, Radin doubted that he actually would.

Of course Radin might be completely wrong and the King might just do exactly that, but from what he had heard of the Durin King, he sounded like a fair and justice dwarf and if anyone was going to have their heads rolling because of him, it was going to be them.

Radin shuddered at the thought. He was rather attached to his head and had no wish to loss it.

_Not that we don't deserve any less_, he thought dully.

"Radin?"

"Hmmm? What is it?"

The boy looked up at him with big blue eyes that reminded Radin of sapphires.

"Are we really going to Erebor?"

"Ah, yes, I believe so."

The boy brighten for some reason. It took Radin a moment to remember that the boy might actually be the son of the Durin King who ruled from within Erebor's great rock walls. Not that he was sure the boy actually knew this. But hadn't he said something about dwarven uncles?

"You have uncles, who live there, don't you?"

"I think so." Frodo cheeks turned a little red beneath his wind blisters, "I've heard them and mama talking about Erebor b'fore, but they've also said Eren Luid. So…" the boy trailed off weakly, his eyes turning hopeless.

"They might be in Erebor." Radin reassured his young charge.

"Yes, they might!" the hopelessness left Frodo's eyes as quickly as it had appeared and a fierce fire suddenly burned brightly within the sapphire orbs. "And they will find Mama and kill Bovin and make everything right again!"

"Kill me and Ranon too." Radin muttered under his breath, not meaning for the little one to hear, only as proven many times before these little hobbit or hobarf in this case had sharp little ears so the lad heard his words and his small face twisted in distress.

"No. no, no, no, I won't let them! I won't let them kill you and Ranon. You're my friends! Mama's friends! They wouldn't kill mine and mama's friends!"

"Friends don't kidnap each another mim ze." Radin muttered, picking up a stone on the edge of the road and threw it angrily at an old, decrepit tree.

They were out of the mountains now and were heading north, towards Ered Mithrin so as to not pass through the dreaded Mirkwood. From the Ered Mithrin they would head south east. Moving far too close to the Iron Hills for Radin's liking, if only because he knew that the Lord of the Iron Hills was a cousin and friend of Thorin Oakenshield, the supposed sire of the child sitting in his lap.

Radin sighed heavily, his chin coming to rest on Frodo's dark curls and the pair stared miserably back at the Misty Mountains.

"Lad. Lad." Radin woke with a start as a gentle but firm hand shook him awake. He could hear Frodo grumbling in his lap as the lad curled in closer to his chest as he continued to sleep.

Radin rubbed his eyes and blinked up in the dim light – was it evening or early morning, he couldn't tell – at the dwarf who had shaken him awake.

"Hoggle? What is it?" Radin asked as he blinked blearily at the dwarf standing beside him. Hoggle wasn't, in fact, the dwarf's real name but it might as well be, people were always calling him that. Radin knew him by no other name. Radin doubted that Hoggle even remembered the name that his mother gave him at his birth if only because Ranon asked him once at the beginning of their mission and the dwarf had looked at him blankly before taking a large swig of some foul smelling drink from his hip flask.

"We're moving out." The old dwarf stated with a shrug of his stiff shoulders, "Dagan wants to be well clear of these parts of the mountains by midday. Wake the little lad or carry him, we leave once we've finish our fast."

"What of the other hobbits?" Radin asked.

Hoggle sighed heavily.

"They've quieted down some, though they're still not happy." Hoggle rolled his bright blue eyes, his heavily lined face grimacing. "Obviously."

"Obviously."

"The old one has perked up a little. His mind seems to have returned some to him."

"Good." Radin said as he pushed himself carefully up the rock that he had been leaning against, so as not to disturb the still slumbering boy in his arms.

"Sooner we get these lot to Erebor, the sooner we get home, lad." Hoggle said as the two strode to the campfire.

"Yeah…" Radin said softly as he looked at the slumbering boy in his arms.

He closed his eyes at the thought of where the boy's mother was heading. His brother as well. Why had Bovin split them up? Why?

As much as he was happy to be caring for the little lad, he was frightened as to what fate awaited his little brother.

Please Mahal, protect him. Please.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Radin's party called a halt by a shallow river and it was decided that they were all in high need of a bath.

The hobbits as usual were less incline to go along with any suggestion that was made by a dwarf but after one dwarf threaten - teasingly, Radin would like to add, though the Halflings' didn't appear to see the difference between teasing and true threats when it came to dwarves. But given the state of their situation, Radin didn't half blame them for being a bit wary of the dwarves, even though the dwarves who made up this party were far more mild-mannered and had only come along for the venture due to their desperate need of money – to throw them into the river.

It appeared only two of the Halflings knew how to swim and so these two were, once they were convinced that the dwarves weren't going to try and drown them, in the water and splashing about rather quickly. The other two stared at the water with great distrust before finally being convinced by their younger kin to come in only to their knees while the dwarves looked on, laughing good naturedly at their cautious nature.

Radin it seemed had once again been landed with the hardiest job in all the company which involved trying to convince young Frodo that having a bath was a good idea.

The lad was very, very much against going near the water. Or rather, he seemed to be very reluctant to take his shirt off at the very least, the hems of which he clutched tightly in his little fist as he shook his black curls, snapping no and running away every time Radin came close to snagging him.

"No! Radin, no!"

"But Frodo why not? You don't want to be the only one still being smelly once we start moving again, do you?"

The nine year old glared nastily up at him for speaking to him as if he was just a little babe. Though, by dwarf standards the lad would still be considered little more than a baby. By a humans standards, he would be considered a few years short of being considered an adult and would already be helping out with the family business.

He had no idea how hobbits' aged, though he vaguely knew from what he had overheard from the hobbit family that a hobbit came of age at thirty-three. An odd age, in Radin's mind at least, for anyone to be finally considered an adult, but who was he to question another race about their way of life?

"Frodo," He lowered himself to a crouch and looked the little boy straight into his sapphire blue eyes.

The boy stared back at him with hard eyes, unrelenting, refusing to back down.

"It's just a little water, a bit chilly, I'll grant you, but nothing that will hurt you mim ze."

"I'm not afraid of water." Frodo muttered as he dug a larger than normal toe into the soft soil.

"Then what is it? The cold?"

"I promised Mama…" the lad trailed off and looked away from Radin and the river and towards the mountains, in the direction that his mother might be in.

"What did you promise her? To be the smelliest little Hobarf around?" Frodo shook his head, his little face pulled into a frown.

"Dwobbit."

"Huh?" Radin cocked his head to one side curiously.

"Dwobbit. I'm a Dwobbit. Not Hobarf. A Dwobbit."

"Alright then." Radin said with a slow nod of his head as he registered just how serious the boy was about the matter. It reminded him of how Ranon had been about their mixed blood before he built his impenetrable wall around him.

"I'm sure your Mama didn't make you promise to be the smelliest Dwobbit in all the land. In fact, I do believe that would go against her contract of being a mother."

Frodo giggled letting Radin believe that they were finally getting somewhere. He moved a little closer only for the boy to dart a few more steps away from him, his face once more guarded.

"Frodo." Radin groaned.

"I can't."

"Can't? Can't what? Have a bath? Sure you can?"

Frodo pulled a face.

"It's not the bath, it's…" his fists twisted tighter within the hem of his shirt.

Radin thought he saw a gleam of silver in the sunlit around the boy's collar.

"Come on," Radin said gently, "whatever it is, I promise not to tell anyone."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart or Mahal will smash his hammer down upon me."

Still the little lad hesitated before creeping forward to stand in front of him.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise that you won't." Frodo said in an earnest whisper, "Mama says I couldn't tell a soul about this or it will be taken from me and I won't be kept safe anymore."

Radin nodded slowly, unsure what this was all about until Frodo unbutton his shirt and revealed a stunning shirt of sliver rings.

"Mithril." Radin whispered, struck dumb.

The boy shift uncomfortably under his amazed gaze forcing Radin to snap out of his awe struck stupor.

"Where did you get this?"

"Mama had it in her wardrobe. Before that she had it hidden in a chest with Sting and other things that she brought back from her venture."

"Ah." Radin mumbled as he continued to stare in awe at the shiny mail shirt, "a present from her dwarves?"

"I think so." Frodo said slowly, "I'm not sure, none of my uncles mention it whenever they come to visit." He plucked at the shiny mail, nibbling on his bottom lip as he did so, "maybe… maybe my…"

"Maybe your papa gave it to her." Radin finished him causing the lad to blush but there was a hopeful looking in his blue eyes.

"Maybe. She never talks about him." Frodo mutter his eyes turning dark.

"Never?" Radin pressed gently.

The little lad shook his head.

"Well… maybe not never." Frodo mused, "But I know very little about him. I don't even know his name."

"He isn't one of the dwarves your mother travelled with?"

"I-I don't know. I mean, mama's told me all about her dwarves, but-but she never told me which was my papa."

"She told you about every single one of them?" Radin asked as he carefully pulled off Frodo's cotton shirt and then mithril one, quickly tucking it within his other shirt – he stuff both shirts carefully within one his jackets large pockets – and then the boy's trousers so that he was know only in his under-things before he lifted the lad up into his arms. He could feel the other hobbits watching him closely as he carried Frodo to river's edge.

Radin waded into the cool water with Frodo settled on his hip, grinning as lad yelped and squirmed on his hip when the water came to his waist.

Radin could see the two braver hobbits were swimming close by, watching him intently but seemed to relax when Frodo waved at them before splashing his hands and feet in the clear water.

"Frodo?"

"Hmmm? Oh yes, she did. I know all about them from her and my uncles, cos my uncles were some of the dwarves that went with her." Frodo grinned widely.

"But none of them are…"

"Nah. I thought that one of them was, maybe, but he and mama are just good friends."

"How do you know?"

"I asked him."

"Ah." Radin said wincing slightly at the blunt manner the lad used when answering his question. He could just imagine the boy using the same bluntness when determining if one of his mother's dwarf friends were his father. "And what did he say?"

"He just smiled at me sadly, ruffled my hair and said no, he wasn't my adad." Frodo said with a small sigh.

"Did you ask him if he knows your adad?"

"He didn't say but Mama says that he and the others know my papa. That they will come with me when I'm to meet him when I'm older."

"When you're of age?"

Frodo shrugged as he trailed his fingers in the water.

"I guess."

"Long time to wait to meet ones papa." Radin mused as Frodo pulled a face before looking up at Radin questioningly.

"Do you know your papa?"

Radin tried to keep his face blank as dark emotions raged within.

"Yes, I did." Radin said stiffly causing the little boy to look startled by his sudden change of mood.

"Didn't you like him?"

"I liked him just fine, it just…" Radin fought to keep himself in check, to stop himself before he lashed out at this innocent child.

Radin closed his eyes, counting slowly under his breath until he regained his calm.

"I liked him a lot," he started again. "He was a good father, the best actually, given the circumstance." He sighed softly, "he was a good man and he wouldn't be very proud of me, not for the choices I've made."

"So," Frodo said softly, clearly choosing his words carefully, "your papa is of the race of men and you mama…"

"Is a dwarrowdam, yeah."

"So, we're brothers." Frodo said brightly while Radin stared at him incredulously.

"Sort of." Frodo add with a sheepish smile.

"How in Mahal's name did you come to that conclusion mim ze?"

"Well, ah." Frodo stuttered, his face scrunched as he thought deeply over his proclamation of them being brothers, "we both have dwarves as a parent but a member of another race as out other parent. So we're not true dwarves."

"Thanks for reminding me." Radin muttered though Frodo continued on as if he hadn't heard him.

"We're both halves of the same race and due to that we don't fit in anywhere, which makes us family."

"Eh…" Radin stared at the little boy in bemusement.

"Mama wouldn't mind if you and Ranon became my brothers."

"My mother wouldn't mind either, but if you told her your reasoning for us being brothers she would understand it even less than me."

"We're family; families don't have to make sense." Frodo informed him wisely causing Radin to laugh.

"I'll say. I mean, look at us for example, we shouldn't even exist." Frodo smiled and nodded.

"Radin!" Radin and Frodo looked towards the bank where most of the dwarves and the hobbits now saw, drying themselves after their chilly bath. Hoggle was standing closest to the water and calling to them, "Are you and the lad actually cleaning yourself or just standing there? We'll be moving on soon."

"Alright." Radin said and then with a cheeky smirk, he threw the squealing dwobbit into the water. Frodo's head broke the surface of the water with a great series of spluttering.

"Why you do that for?!" the boy all but screamed back at him.

Radin grin only grew wider as he walked over to the little boy and lifted him out of the water.

"You said that we were brothers."

"Yes?" Frodo said eyeing him suspiciously from beneath his water log curls.

"Well," Radin drawled as he made to throw Frodo again, "this is what brother do!" the boy let out another squeal but this time it was filled with delight as he soared through the air before making a great splash in the river.

"You - you be careful with-with 'im." Radin looked back at the river bank in surprise to see the old hobbit – who had been slowly coming back to his own mind – watching them closely with a worried expression on his warn, pale face.

"I'm fine Grandpapa." Frodo cried as he dog-paddle back to Radin to be thrown again. The old hobbit seemed to be reassured a little but it didn't stop him from watching them closely as they played around in the water and as soon as they came out, Frodo was immediately snared by his grandfather and cousins (or were they his uncles? Radin was exactly sure what relations the three other hobbit had with the lad.).

Radin returned the lad's clothes to him and the boy quickly pulled them on once he had sufficiently dried himself.

They didn't get particularly far that day, but the mood was reasonably good that no one minded. They weren't in as a great a hurry as Bovin and the rest of their company were, so the dwarves were far happier to take longer rests during the day than they had been previously.

That night, the air was almost jolly, feeling more like they were on friendly venture than one of a much darker tone.

Frodo stayed close to Radin's side every chance he got. Whenever his grandfather or cousins forgot to keep him in their circle, he was by Radin's side asking questions about his family and where in Middle-Earth he had travelled and other such questions that only a child could ask and get away with without being considered an annoyance. And Radin didn't mind. The lad reminded him of Ranon when he was younger and before the darkness and hate crept in to his heart.

Radin prayed to Mahal that the same darkness and hate would not creep into the little Dwobbit. He prayed that the dwarves of Erebor would claim him and accept him and maybe, just maybe they would find it in their hearts to go and save the lad's mother from the evil clutches of Bzog.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I had fun writing this chapter, mainly because my writers block had finally, finally broken and also because I just love writing for Frodo and Radin. These two will be featured heavily in the next few chapters :D  
I have fallen quite in love with their big brother/little brother bond which will only strengthen as this story goes on.  
Oh, I'm going to be throwing in more Khuzdul words in here as we get Frodo closer and closer to Erebor.  
I've been relying heavily upon Neo-Khuzdul Dictionaries for Lotro Dwarves. This site has been very helpful with, well anything to do with me trying to write characters speaking Khuzdul.  
The Khuzdul words used in this chapter are;  
Mim – little  
and Ze - one  
Anyway, this chapter was basically meant to be a feel good chapter after all the heartbreak and drama of the last chapter. Actually the next couple of chapters will be a bit more light-hearted, mainly due to them being from Frodo's POV. As I've said before Frodo is fun to write.

I know I said that I would summaries how chapter 26 was originally meant to go in this chapters author's notes but as I tried writing down the summary of the original chapter, I found even the summary too dark and distressing - and i'm the damn author of this thing! I mean, I thought up the original chapter and I found it distressing, mainly due to Frodo being physically threatened and Bilbo having to watch her child being threaten, something no parent should ever have to go through - or child - and it was... it was just too dark for me to continue with and it had to be cut - to write here.  
If you really want to know how chapter 26 was meant to go, just drop me a comment and I'll try to summaries the best I can.  
Next chapter we're still with Frodo and Radin and we're moving steadily closer to the thing that we've all be waiting for; the meeting of Thorin and Frodo... which of course, will not be straight forward in the least!

Oh, I've had a few people asking where the hell Gandalf is? Well, Gandalf will appear again in this fanfic... but not for quite some time still. He's busy, off somewhere else in Middle-Earth, doing only Valar knows what. Remember in LOTR he's gone for 17 years between Bilbo's 111 birthday and the next time he visits Frodo. I don't think Wizards are very good at measuring time. For them, what they think is a couple of months or something, is actually a couple of years. But anyway, he will come into this fic again, but not for quite some time, he'll arrive precisely when he means to and is needed most which oddly enough, isn't right now, as hard as that is to believe.  
Anyway, enough of my rambling.  
Thanks for reading.

P.S. who can guess where I borrowed a certain dwarf's name? I was watching the movie recently, and decided to throw a tiny tribute to it in here. I was going to write the certain dwarf more like his name sake but sadly didn't quite manage it.


	28. The Capture of the Captured

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**The Capture of the Captured**

Weeks had passed, maybe even a month, since Frodo had last seen his mother. At least it felt like a month to Frodo. The days and nights seemed to merge together in the young Dwobbit's mind and in truth he didn't care. He just wanted his mother back.

He walked miserably beside Radin who was now his constant companion, something he knew his grandpapa and cousins weren't entirely happy about but they had learned to keep their mouths shut about their silly disapproval of his large friend after he refused to eat or speak until they allowed him to spend time with Radin.

He knew it was childish of him but he found it was easier to be with Radin than his family.

Being with his family reminded him keenly of who was missing, his most important family member of all, his mother. Being with Radin, while the pain of his mother lost was still there, it wasn't so obvious and painful. Radin helped him forget for a time that his mother was not with him and of the fact that he might just never see her again. That thought just made his chest hurt and made him want to cry like a little baby so he tried not to think about his mother and instead focused more on what Radin was trying to teach him with the little blade that he had lent him.

He was clumsy with it at first but he quickly got the hang of it. He was quick to learn his parries and blocks and he could disarm all who took an interest in his training. His only problem, his only true weakness was his feet.

He was quick on them, no problem there, but if he got too involved in his training, didn't think where he was putting them he quickly found himself with a face full of dirt.

"Stupid feet." He growled angrily as he glared miserably at his large feet that weren't quite so large as other hobbit lads' his age but larger than those of dwarves of a similar body structure to him.

"They are a bit of hindrance, aren't they lad." Hoggle said as he strode over to him as Frodo pulled himself to his feet.

"Yes." Frodo growled wincing as he took a step, trying to keep from yelping.

"Easy Laddie. I think you've burst another blister." Hoggle said as he coaxed Frodo to sit back down so that he check the state of his feet.

Normally one of his cousins would check them for him but as they weren't currently close by Frodo allowed for the dwarf to handle his feet even though his first instinct was to kick him. Hobbits – like dwarves with their beards – were very sensitive as to who touched their feet and they didn't just let anyone handle them.

"Aye, another blister has popped." Hoggle said and Frodo grimaced as he took in the sight of blood and pus running down the sole of his right foot.

"You'll need to get yerself some boots laddie." Hoggle said as he stripped the dirty bandages from Frodo's other foot and pulled some fresh bandages from his pocket.

"Mama was thinking of getting me some boots but I've never had blisters as bad as these before." Frodo grumbled, wincing as Hoggle rub some foul smelling ointment onto the bottom of his foot, stinging the blisters and cuts that were there.

"I can well believe you didn't, in that pretty green land of yours but out here in the wild," Hoggle shook his head, "when we get to Erebor you'll be given some boots." He said with a smile.

"Will I?" Frodo asked cautiously.

"Of course you will lad." Hoggle said gently, "you'll be taken care of in Erebor. They're better dwarves than we are." Hoggle smiled sadly as he moved on to tend Frodo's left foot.

"How do you know? They might be just as bad as Bovin and the others? Or worse!" Frodo whispered softly, fear creeping into his voice.

Hoggle gave him a sympathetic look.

"I doubt it laddie. They will treat you well and will probably go after Bovin to retrieve your mama, knowing them."

"Do you know them?" Frodo asked curiously.

"No, not personally." Hoggle shook his white head, "But I know enough about them from hearsay and the grapevine to know that King Thorin the second is an honourable dwarf who will not be pleased by what Bovin – and the rest of us – have done."

"My mama knows him." Frodo perked up with a grin.

"Hmmm?"

"King Thorin. My mama knows him. At least I think it's him she knows-knew. Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Aye, that's his name." Hoggle said with a nod of his head, while privately thinking that the hobbit lass had known the King very well if the whispered rumours about the little lad in front of him were to be believed. And well, while Hoggle had never been one to partake in rumours or believing the ones he heard without some kind of evidence, he was more than willing to lean towards believing this one, if only because the lad resemblance to the Durin King was unquestionable.

"Then he'll help. He'll help get mama back. He owes her so he has to. Uncle Kili told me that Thorin owes Mama his life several times over so he has to help. He has to!"

"Aye, lad." Hoggle said while his mind boggled at the idea that the lad knew the King's nephew without even understanding or knowing the relation shared between him and the King. "Dwarves take life debts very seriously. The king will have to fulfil his debt to your mother or the line of Durin will be cursed. And as the line has only just gotten over their last curse, I very much doubt the king will willing bring upon them another curse. He will rescue your mother, you'll see."

Frodo beamed in delight for a moment before it altered and he suddenly looked worried again.

"But-but Mama-mama thinks that he's behind this. That he asked Bovin to kidnap us. How can I ask someone who may have wanted us kidnapped to help Mama?"

"Lad… lad." Hoggle placed his hands upon the shoulders of the babbling lad who was starting to work himself into a panic. "The Durin King wasn't behind this. He knows nothing of this. Do not think ill of him when he has done no known wrong to you."

"All-alright." Frodo mumbled with a small nod.

"C'mon, up we get. Your family is probably worried about you." Hoggle carefully lifted the boy on to his feet, watching his face closely as he grimaced as he put pressure upon the raw soles of his feet.

Wincing Frodo limped back to where his Grandfather and cousins were sitting by the fire. They fussed over him, scolding him half-heartedly about his desire to learn how to fight, especially from the people who had taken them from their homes in the first place.

Frodo curled up by Paladin's side and closed his eyes, allowing for sleep to take over his tired mind.

He dreamed of a huge dark mountain standing alone in a plain, a huge lake in the distance and beyond that dark forest.

He knew what this mountain was called now while as a toddler he had not. Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, the destination for this journey. He dreamed of dwarves digging for gold and gems far beneath the great roots of the mountain. He dreamed of a stone that's beauty outshone all other jewels. He dreamed of his mother holding the very stone in her hands as she stood in front of elves and men, her eyes desperate and her lips moving, speaking frantic words that he could not hear. He dreamed of her being shaken by a large and majestic dwarf, whose fury was far more terrifying than the dragon that had once inhabited Erebor before he was shot down by Bard, the bowman.

Frodo wanted to cry out for the large, dark haired dwarf to leave his mother alone, that she had been only trying to help, to save them from the danger they were in, the danger that _he_ had in inadvertently put them in.

But before he could get the words out, his dream changed to dreams more suited to a child his age and he was able to sleep without disturbance for the rest of the night.

* * *

Frodo woke with a strange prickling sensation running through his body. It was similar to the feelings he had felt back home in the Shire but less dangerous, less frightening. Something was coming, nothing that he should fear but simply something that he should simply be aware of.

"You alright Frodo?" Saradoc asked as he ruffled Frodo's black curls as they got ready for the day's march.

"Hmmm? Ah, yes Uncle Saradoc. I'm fine." He smiled up at his uncle before wandering over to where Radin was pulling on his pack.

"Hello there. How's your feet?" Radin asked as he swung his back up and onto his back.

Frodo shrugged his shoulders. His feet ached but after so many weeks of them aching he was growing used to the pain.

"Hoggle says that we'll be able to probably see the Lonely Mountain tonight when we reach our next campsite." Radin said as they started walking, matching his long legged stride to Frodo's short ones.

"Really?"

"Uh huh." Frodo grinned at the thought though it did stir strange and complicated feelings within his gut.

They marched for about an hour before Frodo's poor feet pained him too much to walk. Without a word of complaint Radin swung him up and onto his shoulders, saying cheerfully that Frodo had the job of group lookout which of course was very important job as it was his task to warn the group if they were about to be attacked from any direction and to identify exactly what it was that was about to attack the group.

Frodo took the job very seriously, only… it was rather boring when most of the time all you were looking at were Mountains on your west side, forest on your east, more mountains ranges in front of you and same went for behind you.

It was an important job but boring one and his curious mind tended to wander away from his task whenever he saw a hare running through the grass or a hawk over head – which he always imagined to be a great eagle from his mama's adventure. He didn't mean to lose interest in his task and for his mind to wander or be distracted, it just sort of happened.

But he did let out a startled squeal before the strange dwarves jumped them if that counted for anything.

The attack was sudden and out of nowhere. One moment they were marching along happily and the next they had dwarves dressed in impressive armour surrounding them with sharp swords and axes.

In one movement Radin had swung Frodo from his shoulders, pushed him behind him as he heft his great hammer into a defensive position.

"Stand down." One of the armoured dwarves growled,

"And why should we? We have done no wrong? You are the ones who attacked us!" Divil, the dwarf who was missing his right eye cried though Frodo could see that he was sweating heavily from beneath his heavy black beard

"We have information that you are in league with the traitor Bovin. We are to bring you before King Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain and Lord Dain of the Iron Hills to meet their fair judgement."

"Can you see Bovin anywhere here? You are accusing us of association with a traitor when you have no proof!" Divil snapped.

"So you are all just taking a leisurely trip through uninhabited and dangerous mountains, far away from any main roads, far from any eyes, simply because…" The armoured dwarf, Frodo was guessing he was a captain of some kind. His red beard glinted in the dull afternoon light from beneath his iron helmet.

"We're lost sir." Divil said, sounding sincerely sheepish, "we became lost during a great storm and we turned off the main roads somewhere in the mountains. For the last week or so we've been trying to find our way."

"And where does your way lead?" the captain asked. Frodo could see that he didn't believe a word of what Divil was saying but seemed to be content to play along.

Divil hesitated for a moment, glancing at his fellow dwarves before muttering the word Erebor. The captain smiled a thin smile.

"Well then friend, you are in luck for we ourselves are heading back for Erebor right this very moment, we can escort you there."

Divil's face lost all colour beneath his beard while others in the company muttered uneasily.

"Oh wonderful, more dwarves!" Frodo glanced over to where his least favourite cousin was standing, glaring furiously at the newcomers.

"Who are you?" The captain asked as he looked over Lotho and the three other hobbits sharply, "or more importantly what are you?"

"They're Halflings, of no importance sir." Divil started to but was interrupted by the angry cries of Frodo's three cousins.

"No importance! No importance!" Three hobbits were crying as one, "You force us to leave our homes, to travel over treacherous lands and mountains, give us little to no food and you say we have little importance! Let us go and return us to our homeland then!"

"Don't forget about Mama!" Frodo yelled over his cousins' cries. Adding his own two penny's as his grandfather would say if he was in a better state of mind.

"Yes," Saradoc cried, his hands placed on his hips and scowled furiously at all the dwarves present, "Not only have you stolen us from our home, you have harmed one of our kin and have forcibly separated her from her son and family."

"Is that so?" The captain said softly as he looked from Frodo's cousins and grandfather to Frodo himself, his brows raising as he looked Frodo up and down.

"Yes, it is." Paladin exclaimed hotly, "And we demanded for things to be set right this instance."

"I don't know about being able to set things right this very moment, little ones." The captain said carefully, almost gently, "I fear that might be beyond my power at this very moment, but if you will allow, we will take you to Erebor and you will be able to speak you case to the King."

"Will he rescue my Mama?" Frodo cried and the captain was once more glancing at him with a curious, almost suspicious expression on his face.

"Who is your Amam, mim ze?"

"Billanna Baggins. My name is Frodo." Frodo said as he stepped around Radin who mumbled unhappily and shadowed Frodo as he moved to stand in front of the captain.

"Baggins?" The captain's bushy red eyebrows forwarded, clearly trying to place a name that he had heard before in passing.

"You've probably heard her being called Bilbo, that's her nickname." Frodo explained quickly.

"The Arkenstone thief?" The captain cried out in shock and Frodo jumped back into Radin's legs, who laid a protective arm around him.

"She was a burglar, yes." Frodo squeaked, ignoring the puzzled looks his family was shotting him. He knew that his mama had never fully explained her role within the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

The captain leaned forward and peered into Frodo's face closely.

"Seems she burgled more than just our greatest treasure." The captain muttered and Frodo felt Radin's arm tighten around his chest.

The captain lifted his head to stare up at Radin wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Radin, sir. Radin son of Runira."

"And your father's name, boy?"

Radin hesitated.

"Don't see why that's important sir. I gave you my mother's name, is that not good enough?"

"No." The captain said bluntly, "your father's name boy?"

Radin sighed heavily.

"Williem, sir. My father's name was Williem." Radin mumbled.

"Human name."

"Yes, sir."

The captain nodded thoughtfully.

"Protective of the lad here, aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Won't let any harm befall him, will you?"

"I'll protect him with my life, sir."

The captain nodded again before striding to the front of the company, his face stern.

"I am Aivion son of Aiviel. I am a Captain of the Royal Guard, sent by King Thorin Oakenshield, to find Bovin son of Brovin and bring him to face justice in Erebor. Even though, as you previously said, I have no proof that you are in league with the traitor, the Halflings have spoken of other laws you have broken and so we will still be bringing you stand before the king."

The dwarves around Frodo swallowed heavily but none raised a word of protest as the armoured dwarves – soldiers, that was the word for them – forced them to march two by two with a soldier marching on either side of the line.

"Radin!" Radin and Frodo jumped as they both looked towards Aivion who stood at the front of the line, "Lad, bring the Halflings to the front. You got the little one? Good." Radin hesitated a moment but quickly had Frodo on his shoulders once more while he herded the rest of the hobbits to the front of the line. They moved there with little protest, even the bloody Lotho was keeping his mouth shut for once.

Once Aivion was satisfied with the line up, he barked out the order for them to march. They moved a lot more loudly than they had before due to all the armour the dwarf soldiers wore, but Frodo couldn't help but admire how the sun glinted and shone off the helmets and breast plates that the dwarves wore.

They were taking him to Erebor! He knew that the dwarves had been planning on taking him to Erebor but these dwarf soldiers were going to take him to the KING! The King under the Mountain! He could help Mama, he had to, he….

The Arkenstone thief…. What did that mean? Aivion had said it as if it were a bad thing, so-so maybe…

A cold feeling start curling around his gut. If Aivion thought his mother bad then what did the King under the Mountain think? Would he help him find her? Or would he decide not to because she was an Arkenstone thief? Whatever that was. No wait… he closed his eyes as he heard his mother's soft voice singing his lullaby.

_`Till this day our hearts have yearned_

_Her fate unknown the Arkenstone_

_What was stolen must be returned.'_

As his mother's voice sang within his head, he saw a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the burning sun, like snow under stars, like rain upon the moon. These descriptions were spoken in his mind by a voice that Frodo had never heard before, but was as familiar to him as his mother's or grandfather's voices were. He realised that he had dreamed of this pretty stone before, of his mother holding it even.

Had his mother really stolen it from the King? Why would she? Hadn't she and the King under the Mountain been friends?

Frodo's head hurt from his thoughts. He wanted his mama, with her arms around him, telling him stories or singing to him. He wanted them home, safe and sound.

He laid his head down upon the top of Radin's head and sniff, tears trickling down his cheeks. He brushed his tears away from his cheeks impatiently but he left his head laid upon Radin's head and once more closed his eyes and tried to sleep, despite his pounding head.

He was asleep in moments.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So Frodo and everyone have finally been caught by Thorin/Dain's dwarves. YAY!  
Next chapter guess what... Frodo will be in Erebor. Jump up and clap hands with glee!


	29. A Child's Running Feet

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I could tell you the multiple excuses that aren't really excuses that have kept me from updating AND writing anything for this fanfic for the past what... two, almost three weeks? Work has been insanely busy and stressful and I've found in the past that whenever I write when I'm truly stressed I kill whatever it is I'm writing. I also just haven't felt like writing for the past couple of weeks, haven't had the time nor the energy to write. Hopefully things with work have settled down enough so that I won't be spending every single day getting my throat ripped out by nasty people complaining that they're being paid the wrong amount even though they're being paid exactly what our system tells us they should be paid, but anyway, enough about that. That's not important, what is important is that as of this chapter, Frodo is now in Erebor! YAY!  
Please enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**A Child's Running Feet**

Frodo stared up at the Lonely Mountain in amazement. It was huge! Bigger than he had ever imagined it could ever be. Neither his dreams nor his mother's stories had done the great, lone mountain the justice that it so deserved for its grand size.

The Misty Mountains had, of course, been huge, but there were a great many of them while this mountain stood all by itself out in front of him was-was something else all together!

"Impressed mim ze?" Aivion asked, smirking up at him from where Frodo was once more seated upon Radin's shoulders.

Frodo was too speechless to speak so he simply nodded his head, his mouth hanging open a little. He was pleased – once he has regained a little composure – to see that his grandfather and cousins were looking at the huge, lone mountain with similar stunned expressions as his own.

"Come, I wish to get there before nightfall and hopefully without too many people seeing us." Aivion rumbled as he straighten his pack on his back, signalling for his troops to pick up their pace.

"Why?" Frodo called to him from the top of Radin's shoulders as the company start marched along at an even greater pace than before.

"Why mim ze?" Aivion called back over his shoulder to him.

"Why don't you want anyone to see us?"

Aivion looked back and up at him thoughtfully.

"It would just be better for us to get to the mountain without being noticed by any humans or elves. Even dwarves." He added with an oddly cautious note to his voice that Frodo didn't truly understand.

"Oh…" Frodo said. He leant forward to look down at Radin's face in confusion.

Radin simply shrugged beneath him.

Frodo noticed that his big friend looked quite nervous and unhappy as they moved closer and closer to the mountain, taking care to stay on the less well-used road heading towards the great mountain, away from the larger, bustling main road the wound its way from the shores of Long Lake to the very roots of the Lonely Mountain. The road that they were currently travelling upon was one of the many roads that had been created between the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills. It was a road of a time long gone by, a time before Smaug the Terrible and had not yet been restored for the smooth travelling of carts and wagons, so it was hardly ever used and they saw not a soul upon it as they marched briskly towards the Lonely Mountains roots.

Aivion's prediction that they would reach the mountain before nightfall were indeed correct and Frodo felt sure that his eyes would surely fall out of their sockets as he desperately tried to take in every single detail of the great mountain before him, with its great stone statues standing proudly on either side of the grand entrance.

He could only just catch glimpses of their grandness from the direction that they were coming from but even so, his mother's description and his own dreams of the mountain, he was still in awe of what little he saw of the Kings of Old, the Guardians at the Gate.

Much to Frodo's disappointment they did not enter the mountain via its great and majestic front gates– and he had so wanted a closer look at those great statues, to see just how accurate his dreams were of them. As well as maybe getting a good look at the everyday dwarves that were clearly returning from a successful day of trade in the rebuilt city of Dale - but rather, the company made their way through a smaller side gate, a fair distance away from the main gate.

Guards moved around them as they entered the huge stone chamber just past the gate, all looking at them with guarded and suspicious expressions.

Frodo shrank down upon Radin's shoulders, his feelings of joy and awe quickly dissipating under these unfriendly stares.

Radin touched his leg gently, giving his ankle a reassuring squeeze.

"Captain Aivion, what's this? Where's Bovin?!" A large dwarf with a bald head, impressive muscles and a great many tattoos decorating his flesh bellowed as he strode down some stone steps from one side of the chamber towards them.

He looked, to Frodo's young mind at least, far too large to be really considered a dwarf. He was taller than everyone else in chamber! Well, excluding of course Radin, but Radin was taller than everyone!

"Dwalin," Aivion and his men bowed to the imposing dwarf.

Dwalin? Frodo leant forward eagerly, forgetting his fear for just a moment.

Hadn't his mama travelled with a dwarf called Dwalin? Yes! Yes, she had… He was - he was King Thorin's right-hand man.

Frodo felt his heart sink to his toes at the thought. He still hadn't made up his mind on whether he should trust the dwarf king or not.

_The Arkenstone thief_…

He watched as the two dwarves spoke in soft voices, every so often glancing in their direction, and maybe he was becoming as parra – parra - paranoid as his Uncle Lotho said Mama was, but they seem to be looking at _him_ quite a bit as they talked.

Whatever it was that they _were_ talking about, Dwalin's seemed to be struggling with what Aivion was telling him.

"I'm going to get Thorin." Dwalin rumbled loudly as he waved off whatever more Aivion was trying to tell him. The large dwarf's face was contorted into a grimace that held not only a great deal of rage but a good deal of sadness as well as he strode back up the stairs from which he had first entered the chamber from only moments before.

The chamber fell into an almost stony silence. Not that Frodo noticed over the sound of his pounding heart.

Thorin? Dwalin was going to get – to get Thorin?

Frodo started to tremble at the thought. He bit back a startled yelp as he felt himself being lifted off and down from Radin's shoulders and being carefully settled upon the stone floor of the chamber.

"You alright, mim ze?" Radin asked as he came to crouch by Frodo, his muddy brown eyes filled with concern.

"Um…" Frodo spluttered, his breath coming out in short gasps.

What was he going to do? What? What?

Suddenly all his excitement for meeting his mother's dwarves had disappeared and he was now filled with a sudden but great desire to simply run away. Run as fast and as far as he possibly could. Didn't matter about the destination, he just needed to get somewhere quiet where he could clear his heavy head.

"Easy," Radin said as he rubbed a hand over Frodo's back, trying to calm his gasping breaths, "Easy mim ze. What's wrong?"

"I-I…" And then his feet just took off, seemingly on their own accord, pulling the rest of him along with them.

"FRODO!" He could hear Radin, his grandfather, cousins and other dwarves yelling after him, but he paid them no heed as he ran up the stairs that he had seen Dwalin disappear up several moments before.

"FRODO! COME BACK!" the yells were growing distant as he ran up the stairs and up the corridor it had led up to.

His breath was snagging in his chest but he kept on going.

He turned a corner and almost crashed head long into several figures.

"Woah there."

"Who are you then?" Frodo shot the leader of the figures a frighten look and for a single moment his eyes were locked with a pair of eyes that mirrored his own before he was running off again but not before he heard another voice calling after him in an amazed voice.

"That was a hobbit. Dwalin! You didn't say there was a hobbit involved!"

"There are five actually." Frodo heard Dwalin retort before he belted out after him for him to come back.

"That was a child." Said another voice, a gentler one than Dwalin's, "Wait, little one, come back!"

But Frodo kept on running, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his poor feet with each step he took.

He took several more turns, becoming completely lost but making sure he wasn't seen by any of the many dwarves that were moving around the corridors, going about their business.

When he found he could run no more and he was completely and utterly lost, he opened a wooded door and ducked quickly inside of it into the dimly lit chamber.

He found himself to be in some kind of storage chamber, one that hadn't been used in years if the amount of dust was anything to go by.

He sneezed as he moved cautiously around the chamber.

_Now what?_ He thought as he moved deeper and deeper within the chamber, inspecting the burning lanterns that hung from the walls, impressed by the impression they gave that once lit they didn't go out for quite some time, maybe even years.

He found an old pallet tucked to one side of the chamber, with a soft blanket that smelt slightly smoking. After a moment of listening hard to make sure he couldn't hear any footsteps anywhere nearby he curled up upon the pallet and pulled the blanket over his head.

Why had he run away like that? It was silly and childish but something inside of him had just panic when he heard that Dwalin was going to go and get Thorin.

And it was probably Thorin he had almost run into now that he thought about. That thought stirred mixed emotions within his gut and he wished for the millionenth time that his mama was here with him.

Sniffling softly he buried his face into the pallet and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, sorry for it being such a short chapter. It was longer but I'm still not happy with the *cough* Thorin side of this chapter, so he half of this chapter has now become Chapter Thirty...  
Bloody hell, this thing is over thirty chapters long! Wasn't expecting that! Not from me.  
My track record with long, involved chapter fic isn't overly good - It kinda pathetic really. I usually lose interest or am desperate to write something else by this point - which is partially true, I am desperate to write other things, but unlike with those other times, I'm not letting myself do just that, write other things I mean (I also don't have the time to start writing anything else. I barely find enough time to write a paragraph or two for this thing)  
It is possibly one of the longest fics I've stuck with (beside from my Hunger Games one - which I still haven't finished and it too is sitting around the thirty or so chapters mark, but I gave up on it to write this fic instead... Don't you all feel special, lol). I started writing it on the 1st of March and am still plugging along with it now half-way through August. Hopefully I can keep on plugging along with it until the damn thing is finished because I really do want to finish it. And it gives me good and happy feelings, unlike my Hunger Games fanfic which was actually starting to make me feel quite depressed. That's what you get for naming and writing background stories for all your tributes, you find it really hard and devastating to kill them. But luckily with this fic, that's not really that much of an issue.  
Yeah, ok, I'm rambling again, sorry. And again, I'm so sorry for the annoyingly long wait for this chapter. It wasn't my intention to make you all wait, it just life got busy and stressful and yeah, that's basically it. If I could, and if my brain would let me, I would write this fic all day, every day until it was done, but I can't. Sorry. If you don't hear from me for a little while, I'm not dead, I'm simply busy and too stressed and tired to write. But hopefully things will be better now so I can get writing again.

Anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter, next time will be with Thorin... actually I think we'll be with Thorin for a couple of chapters in all his 'oh mahal what the hell is happening. why do these sorts of things always happen to me? I seriously need a drink' glory.

Bye for now


	30. From an Ember, a Raging Furnace

**Chapter Thirty**

**From an Ember a Raging Furnace**

Thorin had been having a fairly uneventful – and boring – day. Nothing remotely interesting had happened during its course. Nothing unexpected had occurred. It had been, as stated before, an uneventful day for the King under the Mountain.

The day had passed like he had come to expect most of his days as King to pass, long hours bent over meaningless paper work that needed his signature and crest and he only read them because Balin made him do so, otherwise he honestly wouldn't have bothered. He wasn't like Fili who seemed to actually enjoy doing paperwork; such a strange and unexpected trait.

Thorin had lost track of how many times he had caught himself not doing his own paperwork and simply sat back in his chair, watching his nephew work through his own mountain of paperwork, keenly taking in every expression his nephew wore as he worked through each paper with care and diligence, noting in his head that they were the exactly the same expressions that he wore when out hunting with Kili. Determined and lethal.

Thorin stretched his stiff back and tried to crush his boredom down as he read over yet another treaty of friendship from Thranduil because of… some reason or another, some benefit that Thorin couldn't really see benefitting his kingdom. They were neighbours, allies in times of trouble but that was really as far as Thorin wanted things.

He liked the working relationship he had with Thranduil and had no desire to change it for any reason what so ever. He saw enough of the pointy-eared bastard and his damnable son as it was, thank you all very much, he didn't want them thinking they could swan on in any time it took their fancy.

He was just forcing himself to get back into his paperwork and seriously focusing (and caring) upon what was actually being written down on the paper in front of him that he needed to sign when a very flustered Dwalin came barging into his study, closely followed by a very confused Balin.

Thorin glanced from the two brothers to Fili who was staring at Dwalin as if the huge muscular dwarf had suddenly grown another head. It would have been less shocking if he had for seeing a flustered and tongue-tied Dwalin was a very unusual and queer sight indeed.

"Ah, good evening Dwalin." Thorin spoke slowly and carefully as he watched the Captain of his royal guard try and composure himself enough to speak.

"Aivion's back."

"Oh?" Thorin said slowly, unsure why this would cause Dwalin to become so utterly flustered. Fili's blonde head was cocked to one side, his blue eyes filled with curiosity.

"Has he got the traitor Bovin with him?" Fili asked and Dwalin huffed.

"I wish." The huge dwarf snorted, "Make things less-less odd. And awkward."

"Eh?"

"Look," Dwalin said now looking more like his usual grumpy and imitating self, "Best if you just came and saw what Aivion _has_ brought with him and what he's got to say, which is a lot and…" at this Dwalin gave Thorin a very strange look, "and I don't know how happy you'll be when you hear what does he have to say."

"Is it bad?" Fili asked in bewilderment.

"Not bad," Dwalin seemed to be struggling for accurate words to describe whatever it was that Aivion had brought back with him to Erebor. "More…it's just complicated. Just come and see for yerselves."

Thorin didn't need to be told twice – if more from the curiosity to see what had flustered Dwalin so than feeling any kind of kingly duty to go and check out whatever it was Aivion had brought with him. As it wasn't Bovin, he didn't really care, but… it did get him out of doing paperwork for at least a little time… unless it was something that required him to do more paperwork which if that was the case he might just pretend that whatever it was the Aivion (depending on what it was) didn't exist and get Fili to deal with it later… once he was done helping Thorin get through his original mountain\s of paperwork first, of course – and quickly followed Dwalin out his study, Fili and Balin moving closely behind him.

They moved quickly through the labyrinth of corridors within the mountain, moving steadily downwards, towards the mountain's roots.

"Dwalin, not even a hint?" Fili was moaning as they marched on through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the grand dwarven kingdom of Erebor.

Thorin had to bite back a grin at how much Fili sounded like Kili only for, in the next moment, he had the humour – and the air from his lungs – knocked out of him as something small and solid collided into his midriff.

Damn children! They knew better than to play in this part of the mountain.

He opened his mouth to give the child a stern chiding for playing where he surely knew he was not meant to but found that words quite failed him when he actually looked down at the child in question.

He vaguely heard Dwalin speaking to him but paid him no heed as he continued to lock eyes with the child.

The child who had collided with him was a very young boy, maybe in his early twenties Thorin would think if not for the simple fact that the lad looked nothing like any other dwarrow child he had ever seen before. The lad looked nothing like any of Bombur's lads though he did look surprisingly like Kili when he was just a very small lad.

The boy's hair was as dark as his own but curly in a way that no dwarrows hair ever would. His eyes were piercing sapphire blue and filled with such fear and uncertainty that Thorin from the very depths of his heart wanted to console and comfort him.

_A human child?_ Thorin wondered but quickly dismissed this thought when he saw the slightly pointed ears sticky out from beneath the boy's thick curls. An Elf? No…

"Who are you then?" His question broke the almost trance like stare that he and the boy were sharing.

The boy's eyes widen and before Thorin could say another word or even have time to try and grab the child, he was off again, sprinting down the hallway, his larger than average bare feet making not a sound upon the stone floor.

"That was a hobbit." Thorin heard Fili dimly exclaiming in shock. "Dwalin! You didn't say there was a hobbit involved!"

"There are five actually." Thorin heard Dwalin reply before he shouted after the child to come back. The child paid him not the slightest heed as he dart out of sight around a corner.

_Five hobbits? Five?_ Thorin could feel his brain starting to shut down.

He could hear Balin talking but couldn't force his brain into comprehending what his old friend and wisest advisors was actually saying.

"Hobbits?" He finally said as he forcibly dragged his eyes away from the direction the hobbit child had disappeared into.

"Five of them." Dwalin said with a nod, "c'mon, ask yer questions when you see them. Told you, you might not like this." He added as a grumble as he continued to lead the way down the hall, passing several anxious guards sprinting up the corridor, presumably after the hobbit child.

"Think they'll catch him?" Thorin heard Fili whispered to Balin from behind him.

"From what I know of hobbits – which is very little I must admit," Balin admitted in a soft tone, a contemplative frown decorating his features when Thorin snuck a glance over his shoulder back at his old friend, "and mostly what I know is from our personal experience with our burglar – I think that they're going to have tough job locating the little lad if he does not want to be found."

_Yes, just like her_, Thorin thought, thinking back on the few times she had hidden herself away and they had been hard press to find her until she was good and ready to be found.

Entering the Eastern Gates entrance chamber and seeing what was being held inside was one of the strangest sights Thorin had ever seen in his very long and eventful life. And considering the many strange and wondrous sights he had seen in his long and eventful life that was truly saying something.

He surveyed the group before him in a kingly manner while his insides did flips as he hunted – though he would refuse to ever admit it and would quite happily take Orcrist to anyone who might suggest that he was – for golden brown curls.

He found such curls quickly, but they were not _hers_.

Four hobbits stood out in front of the band of traitorous dwarves, each of them appearing to be exactly the same and yet worlds apart from each other.

He swallowed thickly and moved forward to address Dwalin's most trusted and senior of officers.

"Aivion."

"Sire." The red bearded dwarf bowed deeply before rising again. He looked to be as flustered as Thorin had seen Dwalin to be only a few moments before and quite irritable, obviously due to the loss of the child.

"Would you be so kind to explain why I have four hobbits standing in this hall and another running somewhere around my mountain?" Thorin asked in a cool and collected voice.

"Ah… bit hard to explain that." It seemed that everyone present was at a bit of a loss for words as to how to explain the situation to their king.

"I find the beginning is always best." Balin offered with an amused smile at seeing his brother's best dwarves at a loss for words.

"We're not even entirely sure of the beginning; these lot have been quite tight-lipped about it all." Aivion said with an aggravated look in the direction of the troublesome dwarves.

"How about the hobbits than?" Balin offered as he sent a kind smile to the quiet Halflings, "what is their story? From the beginning to coming to stand here before us?"

"Well Halflings?" Thorin said as he turned his head to the four hobbits, taking in each ones similarities and differences. There was one who appeared to be very old and quite frail, clutching with one hand onto a short stick while the other grasped the arm of young male hobbit with golden brown curls that reminded him so much of… no! He would not think of her! She had been invading his thoughts enough as it was without him seeing her in the face of this young male hobbit who was eyeing him with narrowed eyes.

If he wasn't so confused as to what was going on, he might have laughed for the glare he was receiving from three of the four male hobbits was quite an amusing sight. Hobbits were not creatures gifted with the ability to scowl with any kind of ferocity, not with their chubby cheeks and general pleasant face. But these three, they were giving everything they had to put their great displeasure of their current situation into their frowns.

"What are your names?" Thorin asked arms crossed against his chest as he looked down at them.

"I'll tell you my name Dwarf Master, if you tell us yours." The youngest – he was guessing. He had never understood the aging rate of hobbits – hobbit with golden brown curls spoke tartly as he glared crankily up at Thorin.

"Paladin Took don't be rude." The old hobbit muttered as he gave the young hobbit – Paladin was it? – arm a sharp tug.

The old hobbit looked up at Thorin with an apologetic look.

"Forgive him, please, he is young and we have travelled far and tempers get the best of one when one is tired and far from home." the old hobbit said and Thorin was struck with more thoughts of _her_ as he stared at the old hobbit.

Why would he be thinking of her when he looked upon this old…

"I am Bungo Baggins." Ah… that's why.

Thorin felt his heart stop in his chest and it took several moments to restart again.

He heard a ragged indrawn breath from behind him and knew without looking that Fili had made the same family connection that he had.

He forced his face to remain neutral as he gave the old hobbit a nod to continue.

"This rude lad is Paladin Took," Bungo continued nodding to the lad beside him who gave them a half-hearted glare at them before making a small bow, "the one next to him is Saradoc Brandybuck," the hobbit man bowed without a word, his curls falling into his eyes, hiding whatever emotions he felt towards them, "and lastly my great nephew Lotho Sackville-Baggins." The finale hobbit did not bow or stop scowling at them. He simply crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. But Thorin took little notice of him, though his name did sound familiar for some reason. But he did not dwell on it, not when he had other matters to deal with.

"The little who just ran away," Bungo continued with a tiny worried smile, "was my grandson, Frodo."

_Grandson?_ Thorin wondered. But wasn't he her fa… hadn't she said that she was an only child? How could he have a grandson when she was dead?

A small, tiny ember suddenly lit itself within his stone heart.

"What's brings you here?" he asked evenly, keeping his face schooled despite the tiny ember growing warmer within his chest with every breath he took.

"Not ourselves willingly." The hobbit with brown curls, Saradoc started carefully. "We were taken from our home quite against our will by the dwarves you see with us, though," he glanced back at the dwarves, "these ones have been kinder to us than the others."

"Why did they take you?" Dwalin beat him to the question. The four hobbits – even the scowling one – hesitated for a moment before shrugging their small shoulder and fell into a cautious, collective silence.

"Bit complicated that bit, I do believe." Aivion spoke up as he glanced over the dwarves and hobbits.

"Do you know it?"

Aivion shook his head.

"Only bits and pieces but as I said they've all been tight-lipped about it all. I know that one hobbit is missing though."

"Missing?" Thorin asked and watched as both Aivion and Dwalin shifted uncomfortably where they stood.

Thorin was about to bark at them to cut it out and just tell him when the youngest male hobbit suddenly asked a very unusual question indeed.

"Are you the dwarves then?"

"Pardon?" Balin answered for him as he was still too occupied with wanting to bash Dwalin and Aivion's heads together to get them tell to him everything they knew about what was going on before him.

"Are you the dwarves?" The hobbit, Paladin, asked again, eying them with suspicious, albeit curious eyes.

"Pal, hush up." Saradoc hissed at Paladin who glared crankily back at him before falling silent.

Thorin understood that for the moment he wouldn't be able to get anything out of the two young hobbits or Dwalin and Aivion about what any of them were on about, forced himself to turn his attention back on to the dwarves before him, only now noticing that the youngest looking dwarf in the entire group appeared to be size of a full-grown man. How had he missed that! Oh, yes, the hobbits and… her. Or rather the thought of her somehow being there – despite being dead – and the earth-shattering disappoint of her not being present.

He gave the odd looking lad a strange, questioning look that caused the large lad to blush a deep crimson and ducked his head, his oversized hands twisting the bottom of his filthy tunic between weather-beaten fingers.

"Bovin isn't present I've noticed." Thorin said, stating the obvious after a long, silent pause in the hopes that he might get information flowing more freely instead of this torturous yanking out a tooth by the roots process he was currently being forced to go through to get anything out of anyone.

Aivion nodded his red head somewhat sheepishly.

"Yes, I have dwarves still out looking for him sir. But I have reason to believe these lot are members of his company."

"Why would he split his company up?" Fili asked from behind Thorin. Thorin saw the youngest hobbit opened his mouth as if to answer before he was silenced by the other hobbit, Saradoc with a well placed elbow to his ribs.

"Good question." Dwalin said as he glared menacingly at the dwarves who swallowed nervously.

"Well?"

"You have no proof that we have even seen Bovin, let alone travelled in his company." One dwarf grumbled angrily back at them. "We have done no wrong."

A snort was heard from one of the hobbits and as well as from the large lad, both of whom fell silent under Thorin's searching gaze.

"Alright, then may I ask why you have hobbits in your company?"

"Wouldn't be the first time Halflings have travelled with dwarves, has it, sir?" One of the dwarf sneered at him.

Thorin glared back at him in annoyance and opened his mouth to retort when he heard the hobbits whispering amongst themselves.

"Told you they were _her_ dwarves."

"Yes, well they're not being much help, now are they? So hush up. And you don't have any proof that they are, Dagan just implying that they knew about travelling with hobbits, not that they actually did. Now hush up Pal. The sooner this is sorted, the sooner we find Frodo and get out of here."

"But they could help." Paladin hissed anxiously before blushing when he saw that all were staring at him. "Sorry." The hobbit muttered though he didn't look very sorry but Thorin let it slide for now.

"Why are you travelling with hobbits."

"We're not travelling with them! They took us, quite against our and it is all your fault!" the surly looking hobbit answered him snappily.

"Shut it Lotho!" the two young hobbits hissed at the surely hobbit who was glaring at Thorin.

"Oh and how is it our fault?"Dwalin asked in amusement causing the hobbit, Lotho, to huff impatiently.

"If you dwarves had just left things well enough alone, she wouldn't have gone running out her front door after to you on your mad venture – and leaving the Baggins name in disgrace to I might add – then these dwarves would never have come to the Shire and kidnapped us. Though," Lotho paused thinking, "It's also her fault for following you and then coming back without so much as by your leave. Kick us out of our rightful property!" the youngest hobbit, Paladin let out an outrage cry at that.

"Rightful property! By my foot was it rightfully yours! Only if you had married her, which you _didn't_, so your claim to Bag End was and still is bogus! Bilbo had every right to kick you out of _her_ home when she came back after travelling with these lot!"

"She should of stayed with them, saved us all a lot of trouble and disgrace!" Lotho cried back.

"Hold on," Balin's clear voice broke the through the hobbit's squabbling and had reminded Thorin's heart that it needed to take a beat or otherwise he will fall unconscious. "Are you speaking of Bilbo Baggins?"

Hobbits gave him incredulous looks.

"Yes, of course we are." Lotho snapped crankily, "she's the only hobbit stupid enough to leave the Shire in over a hundred years."

"Stupid? Bilbo isn't stupid! She's the smartest hobbit in Hobbiton, though given who actually lives in Hobbiton," Paladin was saying as he looked Lotho up and down, "that isn't exactly hard, now is it?"

"She is alive then?" Thorin asks in a soft voice but it's still loud enough to stop the two hobbits bickering. His mind was desperately trying to process this information as he heart beat a mile minute.

"Of course she's alive." Paladin cried looking outraged at the very suggestion that she might not be before pausing as his face fell a little, "Well, she was the last time we saw her."

"And still will be if she's learnt to keep her mouth shut around Bovin." Saradoc mumbled softly.

"Bovin? Bovin has taken her? Where?" Thorin snarled, rage like he hasn't felt in so many years started to swell within his chest. The ember that had been growing in his chest was now a raging furnace.

"Uh, yes." Paladin squeaked, taking a small step back, "But I don't know where. She kept asking him but he never said. They got into quite a few verbal spats about it too."

Thorin's head was spinning.

She was alive. Alive!

And in the hands of Bovin for Mahal only knew what reasons.

"Do you know why you were separated from her?" Balin asked in a collected tone, only a look into his eyes betrayed how disturbed he was by what he was hearing.

The hobbits hesitated for a moment before Saradoc spoke.

"We were slowing them down too much." Saradoc finally admitted, "They, Bovin I mean, needed to get Bilbo to some meeting place by the beginning of autumn or there would be big trouble."

"Any other reasons?" Dwalin asked and Thorin frowned at the odd note his old friend's voice.

"Uh…" the hobbits hesitated again.

"Maybe because of Frodo too, maybe." Paladin muttered, ignoring the exasperated look that was being sent his way by Saradoc.

"Frodo?" Thorin asked before suddenly remembering the little hobbit lad who had run into him before he walked into this huge mess.

"Mmm hmmm, Bilbo's son."

"Her _WHAT_?" Thorin hadn't meant to shout but of all the things that he had expected the hobbits to say, that certainly wasn't it.

She had a son? A son? A child of her very own…

Paladin cocked his head to one side in confusion while Lotho huffed again.

"Oh, of course, you lot wouldn't know, would you! Just perfect, fine mess she's certainly landed us in."

"Bilbo has a child?" Balin asked slowly and carefully, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Ah, yes. That was one of the reasons he was snagged. The other…" Thorin's mind all but seized up as painful theories and possibilities started bombarding his brain. No… no, it could be… she wouldn't…

"How old is he?" Thorin asked through gritted teeth, noticing now that Dwalin and his captain were sharing knowing looks and he realised that they had suspected what has only just now dawning upon him.

The hobbits did not seem to want to answer him however, clearly unnerved by his temper and gathering from the rough treatment they had most likely suffered at the hands of Bovin and his crueller of followers they were not likely to respond well to him losing his temper.

"Nine, sir." Thorin looked sharply up at the tall, disproportion lad. "The little lad is nine; he'll be ten in autumn."

"And you would know this because?" Dwalin asked the lad sharply causing the boy to blush again.

"He told me sir. We're-we're friends." The tall lad scuffed his feet against the stone floor.

Nine. Billanna's child was nine, soon to be ten. It didn't take a mastermind or wizard to figure out the maths.

Thorin ran a hand over his face, trying to force his screaming thoughts to settle into an orderly, coherent fashion so that he would be able to think out his next course of action. Other than the obvious course of action of him hunting down Bovin and impaling him with Orcist.

"I want him found." He spoke slowly, careful to articulate his words precisely and allowing none of his inner turmoil to show in his voice or face, though he was sure if anyone looked him directly in the eyes they would see his panic, his confusion, his fear and hope, "I want him found and brought to me. Once he has been, I'll figure out our next step."

Not the most eloquent or kingly of orders, but they were simple enough and his guards moved quickly to follow them.

"What about us?" Paladin demanded, stamping his large foot against the floor, arms crossed against his chest, his earthy eyes narrowed as he glared up at them impatiently.

"What about my daughter?" Bungo added in a softer tone as his dark brown eyes bored into Thorin. Their eyes met and held for a moment before Thorin was the first to break eye contact, unable to keep looking into the eyes of the old hobbit… her father without his shame near overwhelming him.

How had his fairly uneventful and boring day turned into this!?

He needed a drink, a large one… but not until the child was found and Thorin seen him with his own eyes.

* * *

**Author's note:** So Thorin now, finally, knows that Bilbo is alive. YAY! Only took 30 chapters (and 153 pages) for him find out.  
I admit I'm not overly happy with this chapter. It just didn't turn out the way I thought/hoped it would. I mean, I spent hours thinking over this chapter and somehow I just didn't manage to capture the epic-ness and drama that I felt when I spent hours upon hours stewing and plotting this chapter. Granted the amount of rewrites this chapter went through I suppose it would loss some of its epic feeling that I felt when I first thought up how this chapter was meant to go. I just feel that Thorin's reactions (or lack of) weren't quite right and that he was a tad slow with some crucial information in this chapter that he didn't really pick up on until the end. Granted he is having to drag out a lot of the info by its teeth, so i guess him being slow on the uptake of somethings *coughBilbobeingalivecough*, but then you could just put it down that his brain in overload mode and he simply can't process what he's now learned about Bilbo and Frodo (who he suspects is his son but he hasn't quite accepted this just yet. He wants to meet Frodo before accepting that the kiddo is probably his).

Anyway next two chapters will be spent in Thorin's brain and watching how it tries to cope with the new and personal curve ball of hell that the Valar have lunged at him for their own personal amusement. And my own too, hehehe :D  
Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

Bye for now


	31. Little Talks

**Author's Note:** Hello Everyone.  
I thought I would like to gift you all with a present as it is/was/will be my birthday today and as I am a true hobbit, here is my gift to you (granted I am only half hobbit and the other half of me is human, I wouldn't mind getting some nice reviews for this chapter and my birthday :). It would be really, really cool if we could get this fic over 700 reviews. That would just about make my day)  
Enjoy - Hehehe Thorin gets yelled at in this chapter hehehe!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Little Talks**

"How hard is it to find one hobbit child?" Dwalin growled out once he was done throwing Bovin's dwarves into a holding cell and had come into Thorin's study to report that so far his guards had seen neither hide nor hair of the little lost lad.

"Very hard. Apparently Frodo is quite the escape artist." Balin replied dryly. He had just returned from settling the hobbits into their temporary lodging.

"Serves her right to have one." Dwalin said with a rumbled chuckle, ignoring Thorin's pointed look.

"Did you learn anything else about him?" Thorin asked as he looked around his study, mainly towards his private liquor cabinet. He noticed that Fili had station himself in between it and him, by accident or by purpose, Thorin would not be able to get himself a drink without his nephew knowing exactly what he was doing.

Balin looked at him with an expression that spoke volumes of how unhappy he was about the current situation that they had found themselves in but spoke with his usual calm, collected tone.

"He's very bright for his age, an avid reader," Balin, of course, was pleased about this, "has a talent for drawing. He is kind and good with his little cousins and is a fairly happy child."

"And…" Thorin said giving Balin a look to stop sparing his feelings and to just spit out whatever else he was clearly thinking but wasn't saying in fear of setting off his temper.

Balin sighed a long self-suffering sigh and continued on, this time a little more gruffly and less composed

"According to his grandfather, he isn't your average hobbit lad. He's too quick, too strong and too curious about the world around him. Spends more time running off wanting to go on adventures then is considered healthy by respectable hobbit folk. And," Balin drawled, "He looks like you apparently."

Thorin felt his stomach turn at this.

"Black hair and blue eyes and stubborn as a mule, but then he may have gotten that quality from Mistress Baggins." Balin finished somewhat stiffly.

Thorin pressed his throbbing head into his hands.

What by Mahal's mighty hammer had he done to deserve all this?

_Do you truly wish for an answer to that?_ A voice in his head muttered sarcastically and Thorin quickly decided, that no, he most certainly did not!

"What's going on?" The four dwarves jumped as a beaming Kili strode casually into Thorin's study.

"Gee, Uncle, you look terrible." His youngest nephew added in teasing tone before he took in all of their worried expressions and his smile slipped some.

"What's going on?" He asked again a little bit more cautiously.

"We have a bit of situation." Thorin growled, his hands still itching to pour himself a large mug of strong liquor.

"Oh?"

"Aivion's back." Dwalin said.

"Oh? Has he caught Bovin?" Kili asked as he tilted his head to one side.

"No, but we've found out what the Defiler's Spawn possibly hired him to snatch, though we don't know why yet." Dwalin rumbled. Thorin decided he really did need drink at the thought of _her_ being in the hands of the Defilers Spawn. "But that's isn't our current problem."

"Oh, what is then?" Kili was starting to look irritated, clearly resenting Dwalin's vague answers to his questions.

The boy was growing more and more resentful with each passing day at being left out of the loop when it came to highly-important, royal matters. But given how his attitude was towards almost everything a few years back, Thorin still didn't feel that his youngest nephew was quite ready to sit on his private counsel. In a few more years, yes, but now, his nephew was simply still too young.

"We've lost a child." Balin explained clearly taking pity on Kili, "a hobbit child."

The reaction his nephew gave to that news was not one that Thorin was quite expecting at all. The boy did double take of Balin before his face turned a shocking white colour beneath his tanned, scarred skin.

"A-a hobbit child?" his nephew's voice squeaked unnaturally high, his dark eyes turning wild and frantic, a sight Thorin hadn't seen in years.

"Yes." Balin frowned at the boy, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Ki_li_… What do you know…"

"What does he look like?" Kili demanded quickly as he looked at all them, "the child? What does he look like?"

"Never said he was a boy, lad." Dwalin said frowning now too.

"Doesn't matter." Kili snapped, his temper roaring into life. A temper he had unfortunately inherited from Thorin and his late brother Frerin. Thorin had often prayed that this unfortunate family trait would not lead his youngest nephew to facing the same fate as his mother's second brother, the uncle he had never known. "What does he look like? Is he around nine years old?"

"You knew didn't you," Balin groaned as he pressed a hand to his temple, rubbing his fingers against it, "all those trips to Ered Luin. With Bofur, Bifur and Ori. The four of you weren't going there at all, were you? You were going to the Shire?" Kili fidgeted uncomfortably but did not deny anything Balin was saying.

Thorin once more felt the rage that he hadn't felt in years build within his chest again.

"You knew! You knew that she was alive and well and you never said! You knew that she had a child that could very well be…"

Kili whipped around to face him, his own face twisted in rage as he snarled back.

"You banished _her_! You banished her and _threw_ her out! You have no right to be angry! No right at all! None! We went and searched her out, not _you_! _We_ found her in the Shire, with Frodo, not _you_! You never even tried to find her! Instead you chose to accept the easier option of thinking she was dead! We never did! Never, not once!"

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, anything but words were failing him. His nephew was trembling with fury, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Now," Balin said quickly, stepping between nephew and uncle, even though there was already a large, solid oak desk between them, "is not the time to fight. We need to find the child."

"Exactly! Yell at me later." Kili snapped angrily at them all, "I'm gonna find Frodo. What in Mahal's name were you thinking, letting a small child escape…" Kili paused, his face turning from icy fury to a look of a youngster's confusion. "Ahh… what is he doing here?"

"That's what we want to know." Fili answered him carefully, clearly not wishing to set his younger brother off again. Thorin, however, could see the hurt in Fili's blue eyes.

"Is Bilbo here?" Kili questioned, his dark eyes dancing hopefully.

They all shook their heads and Kili's eyes widen and his fury was back in a heartbeat.

"What did you do?" He snarled at Thorin.

"Believe it or not, nothing." Thorin growled back at his nephew from behind gritted teeth.

"_So_… what? Frodo just wandered all the way here all by himself, did he now?" Kili sneered looking so like Frerin when he was of a similar age and in one of his fouler of mood that it was almost frightening.

"Kili…" Fili warned softly, gently placing a reassuring hand upon his younger brother's arm, "didn't you say you were going to help with the search for Fro-Frodo?" he stuttered a little over the hobbit child's name.

Kili shot his uncle one final furious look before giving his brother a sharp nod and stalked out of the room, muttering darkly under his breath.

"Well, that was…" Dwalin started bluntly before Thorin interrupted him.

"Unsurprising." Thorin grated as he forced his fists to unclench, ignoring the throbbing pain in his palms from where his nails had dug into his skin.

"You didn't know, I'm guessing." Thorin asked his heir who was looking very badly torn between wanting to be the dutiful heir and nephew while at the same, a good, loyal and protective older brother.

After a moment or two of silence, Fili shook his golden head.

"No. But I – I should have guessed. It makes sense, now that I think about it. It is something he would do."

"Yes. Yes it is." Thorin agreed feeling suddenly very tired and old.

"Well since Kili has taken over the search for the little lad, we should…"

"Go talk to Bovin's dwarves; find out what the hell is going on." Thorin finished for Dwalin who nodded his head in agreement.

"Fili," Thorin turned to his oldest nephew as the four dwarves made to leave his study, "go after you brother, help him with finding the lad."

"Of course Uncle." Fili nodded and made to head in the direction that his brother had stalked off into in search for the lost lad.

"Fili." Thorin said again, causing his nephew to look back at him with a questioning look, "beat him over the head for me a couple of times, would you?" his nephew grinned and nodded.

"Of course Uncle," he said again before darting off to find his brother.

Thorin sighed heavily before making his way with Balin and Dwalin at his sides down to the holding cells in the very roots of his great mountain.

Thorin forced all of his erratic emotions and tempest of thoughts to back of his mind, squashing them down within himself to deal with later. Right now he needed to be the King his father and grandfather had wanted him to be and that meant putting all his personal thoughts and feeling to the side.

It still didn't stop him from wanting to break every bone in Bovin's body and for him to now regret his order for Bovin to be brought to Erebor unharmed. Though it did mean he had more to work with when the traitor was finally brought to Erebor.

With questioning Bovin's men, he quickly discovered that almost all of them worked for Bovin simply because they were in desperate need of money or theirs and their families lives had been threatened in some way. Most hadn't even been aware that Bovin's business partner was an orc – many had gone white beneath their beards upon finding out, their eyes filling with disgust and horror. But even with this new knowledge, most of the dwarves had remained tight-lipped about the whole operation, though Thorin figured this was mainly due to them still fearing for their families lives and were afraid to reveal anything more than what they already had.

As furious as he was with these dwarves for agreeing to work with someone like Bovin to begin with, he could understand their desperation.

Even with Erebor now flourishing, times were still hard for most dwarves and so desperate times came for desperate measures. Even the kidnapping of innocent Halflings.

Of course there were some dwarves such as Divil son of Diror, and the twin dwarves Dagan and Dagrin sons of Dagrur who knew more than they were letting on and so needed to be encouraged some.

Divil was the first to break.

"What does Bzog, son of Azog the Defiler want with Bilbo Baggins?" Dwalin asked in a slow voice voided of emotions. He fingered one of his long knives in front of Divil, causing the dwarf to swallow nervously. Balin and Thorin both rolled their eyes at this display of intimidation but said nothing of it. Dwalin had a talent for being intimating at the best of times. This skill had, in fact, saved them many a time and made difficult information more readily available to them when dealing with less than willing informants.

"I-I don't know. Bovin just said that he wants him. Her." Divil scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Bzog doesn't know that Bilbo Baggins is, in fact, female?" Balin asked calmly.

Divil shook his head.

"No. We went to the Shire looking for a Mister Bilbo Baggins. Instead we found her, her whelp and the rest of the Halflings you've seen. Wouldn't have known it was her if it weren't for one of her relatives calling her name out. None of us believed it until she, herself, admitted to being he… she."

"So you snatched her from her home?" Thorin grated out, feeling cold fury moving relentlessly within his chest.

"And paid for it too." Divil grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"We paid for it." Divil repeated grouchily, "She didn't take nicely to us invading her home. She used a little blade on us – wasn't afraid to use it at all – and slash a few of us up. Would have done some real damaged if Bodiol hadn't smacked her one over the head and knocked her cold."

"He did _what_?" Thorin growled out coldly and his temper once more rising.

Divil shrank back in the hard iron chair that he was chained into a little more.

"Thorin." Balin said placing a hand on his arm, half-reassuring, half-restraining.

Thorin took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, something that was growing harder and harder to do with each passing moment.

"Why did you split up?" Dwalin asked, taking over the interrogation once more as he passed around the small dark dungeon they were currently in, still fingering one of his wicked knives.

"Bovin said that we were moving too slowly; that we'd miss our deadline with Bzog and that he would have our heads. That was all he said." Divil grumbled before muttering, "that and to keep the damn wrench under control."

"I beg your pardon."

Divil shrank back once again at Thorin's black tone before stuttering back.

"The –the lass, before we split up, kept on trying to escape with her whelp – I mean," Thorin's expression had turned something close to murderous, "her lad. But the other Halfings slowed her up, foiled her escape attempts in one way or another. It was one of the reasons why Bovin kept them alive."

"Guess she didn't have enough barrels." Thorin heard Dwalin mutter under his breath and felt his lips twitch for a moment before he remembered his fury over everything he was hearing.

Divil was proving to be rather useless, showing that while he had a slightly better idea of what was the plan between Bovin and Bzog, but not much better.

However he did show some worth when he directed them towards one who might have a better idea as he had been one of the few who had been present during the business meeting between Bovin and Bzog.

The tall, disproportion lad smacked his head on the top of the stone door frame the moment he was brought to the interrogation chamber, groaning softly and rubbing his forehead with his tied wrists.

The lad was far meeker than the rest of the dwarves that they had interrogated and by far one of the most respectful, if only due to the fact that he couldn't meet their eyes.

"What's your name lad?" Dwalin asked the moment the lad had sat himself down on the floor – the interrogation chair would not fit his unusual build.

"Radin, sir. Son of Runira and –and Williem." The boy muttered, peeking up at them from beneath his heavy curls before once more turning his gaze to the ground.

"Human name?" Balin queried gently.

"Yes sir."

Balin nodded his head sagely.

"I'm sure that makes getting respectable work difficult for you?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably for a moment before nodding his head with a sigh.

"Yes. We lost our forge because – because of debts and there was nothing left for us in our village. No one would take us in, so we left hoping to find work elsewhere but… no one wants to give work to a mongrel." The boy muttered bitterly, "My brother and I, we –we take whatever work wherever we can."

"Where is your brother now? Did he come with you?" Dwalin asked.

"He's with Bovin." The lad groaned miserably, "I don't know why Bovin split us up, made me go with Frodo and the others while he took Ranon with him and Miss Bilbo. I don't know why." If the boy's hands weren't tied, Thorin was sure the boy would have been tearing his thick hair out by the roots in his frustration and fear for his brother.

"Do you know where Bovin is meeting Bzog?" The boy's eyes flickered to meet theirs, the muddy orbs wide with shock.

"You mean, you know about this?" the boy cried, staring back at them with – with anger of all things. "You knew about this and you've done nothing? I thought – I thought…" the boy seemed to have been rendered speechless, simply gaping up at them in disbelief.

"Do you know who we are lad?" Dwalin growl softly, showing off his wicked knife.

"Well," the boy seemed to have found his tongue upon seeing Dwalin's knife, "not personally obviously. But I've heard of you of course. From my Grandda and others. And of course, Miss Bilbo's stories. She spoke highly of you all, is all and I thought – I thought that if you had known – I mean," the boy's became scrunched up as he thought, "she thought you knew or maybe she didn't but she kept pestering Bovin, asking if you did, but then she was thinking we were bringing her here, not taking her to Bzog. See only Frodo and the others I guess, were meant to come here, while Miss Bilbo was meant to go Bzog, cause she's the one he wants because of some big battle and he thinks – Bzog I mean – that she had something to do with the killing of his… father, I think and that's why we came looking for her. Only she doesn't know that, she thinks you sent us. Though now, I guess she knows that she's not coming here at all but instead, maybe she now knows she going to Bzog…" the boy trailed off weakly as he noticed their dumbstruck expressions.

"I've let my tongue run away with me again, aven't I?" the boy groaned, "but I thought you knew… though of course maybe you wouldn't. I mean the others, not even Divil and the twins really know what's going on. And I don't either; really, I was only there because I'm basically the pack horse."

"Bzog wants Bilbo Baggins?" Thorin said softly and the boy nodded his head looking miserable.

"He's been looking for her for years apparently, but everyone thought she was dead, only of course, she isn't."

"Do you know where they're, Bzog and Bovin, are to meet?"

"Um," the boy scrunched up his face, "I don't know the name of the place, but it's the same place that they made their business deal."

"Could you take someone there?" Thorin asked his mind moving a mile a minute.

"Um, yes. I think so. I hope so." The boy blushed as he tucked his head, "I like Bilbo."

"Oh?" Balin asked, his white bushy eyebrows raised. The boy blushed before muttering;

"Yes, she was kind to me and Ranon. Everyone treats us like we're no better than dirt, calling us mongrels and names like that. She never did. She was just kind." a small smile crept around the boy's face before he looked up at then, his eyes curious, "Have you found Frodo yet?" he asked them, sounding hopeful. "I didn't mean to let him go, but he was getting restless and I think he was having a panic attack." The boy looked truly remorseful.

"You care about the lad?" Dwalin rumbled.

"Yes Sir." The boy nodded. "It was my job to take care of him, not;" the boy sighed heavily, "that I've done a very good job at it, letting him run loose all around the mountain."

"It's alright lad, we'll find him." Balin said in an almost reassuring manner. The boy looked relieved for a moment before turning his head to look earnestly up at Thorin.

"Sir, I know we've done a terrible, wrongful thing but please, I beg you, hold me fully accountable and let my brother, when you catch Bovin I mean, go. He had no part in this, it was all my doing, he only came along because he's my brother and we do everything together but the blame for this rest solely on my shoulders."

"What made you join this venture besides from the lack of work of ones such as you?" Thorin asked and the boy hesitated, looking slightly taken aback before muttering, "my no good uncle."

"Pardon?"

The boy sighed heavily.

"When my grandfather died, he left his forge to my mother and her two brothers, my uncles. My uncles wasted away our money, what little we had, on gambling and rum and such things as that. They created huge debts that we have no way to repay... except with our lives. One of my uncles has already paid in such a way. Bovin, well, actually my employer before Bovin said that if we did this job all our debts would be paid off and we would be secure in life with a job always at hand. If we didn't do it or we failed…

"You would be killed." Balin finished and the boy nodded miserably.

"Not just my uncle, Radon and me, but my mother and sisters too. They said they would flay us alive." The boy's shoulders shuddered.

"Aren't you worried about what will happen to you and your family now?" Dwalin asked maybe a little snidely causing the boy to lurch himself to his feet and bear his much greater weight down upon them. Dwalin immediately moved into a defensive stance and Balin took a step back. Thorin remained completely still, his eyes focused solely on the large lad before him.

"Of course, I am." The boy all but yelled at them, "of course I am. I'm scared to my very bone as to what will happen to my family. I've already seen for myself how quickly the ones you once called friends can turn on you. When my uncle died, my grandda, my – my father. I've seen it before and it terrifies me. I can't – I won't allow it to happen again. I can't." the boy whispered his hands clenching into fists in front of him.

"Alright lad. Calm yerself down. We'll see what we can do for you and your family." Dwalin glanced sideways at Thorin for confirmation. After a moment's hesitation, Thorin nodded his consent.

The boy seemed to relax some, slumping a little against the dungeons wall in relief.

"Thanks. Um, I'll do what I can to help you. To find Bilbo. I don't want her to fall into the white orc's hands."

They spoke with boy for a little while longer for he, besides from a few others, was the most honest and sincere with his desire to help them. He also had a better idea than the rest as to what Bovin's was planning, mainly due to him being "the mongrel, they'll say anything around me or Ranon because they think we're too dumb to understand"

By the time the boy was escorted back to his cell and Thorin walked with his head advisor and right handed man, he wasn't sure if he felt relieved that he now had a better idea as to what exactly was going on or if having this new knowledge was worse than having not known what was going on.

He wanted to beat his fists bloody against the stone wall, roar at the top his lungs, curse until his face was blue.

But most of all he wanted her. He wanted her back with him. He wanted her here, in his arms, safe and sound. He wanted to meet this child who could - and probably was – very well be his child, his son, their son.

He wanted them both and yet at the moment he had neither. She was hundreds of miles away in the hands of traitorous dwarf and was soon to be in the hands of an even fouler enemy who only Mahal knew what he would do to her. And the child, the child who was lost, somewhere within his great kingdom with no idea that he had kin here, that his father ruled the mountain he was lost in, scared and alone.

Thorin tasted blood in his mouth and only then realised that he had been biting the inside of his cheek bloody.

"We need to find the boy." He said coolly, portraying none of his inner rage.

"And Bilbo?" Balin adds carefully, glancing up at him from behind his bushy white eyebrows.

"We need to find her too. But first the boy. Dwalin I want you to join the search for him. Balin, I want you to go and round up the others, in particular Ori, Bofur and Bifur. Maybe they'll have an idea as to where the lad might be hiding."

The two brothers nodded and both strode off in opposite directions to attend their given missions. Thorin stood in the hall watching the two leave before he took himself in the direction his study. He needed a drink before he dealt with the others and then, then he would find Billanna's boy.

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**Author's note:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Hehehe, Kili is so fun to write and him being angry at Thorin for some reason always makes me grin like a lunatic... my parents think I need a life but whatever, I am still just a tween, so I have plenty of time to grin like a lunatic at ordinary people... in fact its less creepy and stalker-ish for me to be grinning like a lunatic at fictional (by fictional they simply do not live in our universe... sadly! Our universe sucks!) character than over a boring human being of our world, even if they do have their moments of being entertaining.  
Anyway, I'm rambling again, so I'll shut up and go back to writing more for this fic. I've been slack (and works still really busy and I've been tired due to it) and I'm worried that I might grow even slacker with this fic due to my dad gifting me with Skyrim. Though, then again, maybe not, I'm a watcher not a gamer. I predict that I will grow quickly bored of continuously getting my character killed simply because I'm walking them off the side of building (Its been a long, long time since I've actually played a computer game myself. The last time I did controllers were still big and you barely touched the keyboard :(). I think I've spent too many years watching my dad kick ass on the computer screen to actually stand the frustration of my own failure to walk in a straight line, but will see what happens. Maybe I can figure out a way that I can find time to do both

On a completely different note entirely, do you all like the cover page for this fic!? Isn't it awesome?! The lovely Balafenn-N drew it for me. I love it!

Thanks for reading everyone. See you again soon! If you don't hear from me in a couple of weeks, just know this, I used to be a writer like you, until I took an arrow to the knee...  
Bye for now!


	32. So Many Words, So Little Time

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**So Many Words to be Spoken,**

**So Little Time to be Heard**

He had barely finished his first cup of strong wine before his old company – all except Nori. He had disappeared, Mahal only knew where and for how long he would be gone _this_ time – came striding into his study. Most looked confused as to why they had be summoned to their King's private study, while others wore guarded expressions, like his youngest nephew for example; with his dark eyes blazing with fury and his woren, scarred hands twitching nervously by his sides.

"Wha's is it?" Gloin asked as the old company moved around Thorin's study, each settling themselves comfortably in one place or another either sitting or standing. "What's with all the ruckus going on out there?" He jerked his thumb back in the general direction he and the rest of the company had come.

"You haven't heard then?" Thorin asked, a tiny part of him amused that something so large as this had managed to stay quiet for so long already. It wouldn't be this way for much longer he imaged. He winced when he thought of how his mountain would react upon finally hearing the news.

"Heard what?" Dori asked curiously.

"That hobbits have come to Erebor." Balin informed them calmly, a bemused smile playing on his lips, hidden behind his great snow beard as he watched the jaws of several members of the old company's drop in astonishment and disbelief.

"WHAT?" Several members of the company cried as one voice.

"Quite against their will, too, we have heard." Balin added dryly a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Hobbits?" Bofur asked softly. "More than one?"

"Four… well," Dwalin drawled, as he shut the heavy study door behind him with a firm thud, "five to be correct but we've lost one."

"Who we should be still out looking for!" Kili snapped angrily.

Bofur looked at him, obviously startled by the lad's sudden outburst before his dark eyes grew wide with alarm.

"Wh-what?" He stuttered while Kili nodded his head vigorously. Bofur looked from Kili to Thorin then back again, his face twisted between horror, confusion and worry.

"What is going on?" Dori asked in puzzlement once he noticed his youngest brother, who had been watching the interaction between Kili and Bofur closely, had turned deathly pale beneath his red hair and beard.

"That's a very good question. Who feels like explaining?" Dwalin smirked, maybe a little too broadly as he gestured in the direction of Kili, Bofur and Ori for one of them to start speaking.

"FINE! We knew!" Kili yelled impatiently, "Now can we go back to searching for Frodo?"

"Frodo?" Several dwarves looked at Kili in confusion while Bofur and Ori stayed stubbornly silent even though their eyes were wide and nervous.

"Frodo is Bilbo's son." Balin spoke the unexpected news as if he were merely complimenting the fine weather they had recently been having and not of the child of a person who had been, up until this very moment, a taboo subject beneath the Great Lonely Mountain.

Thorin leant back in his chair as he watched his men – besides the ones who obviously knew of the lad already – start to gag and splutter over this revelation.

"The lass has a son?" Bombur gasped, looking shocked and deeply upset by the news. "She never spoke a word. Does he know – does he know how she…"

"And that is the second thing we've discovered today… Dwalin said interrupting Bombur before the large dwarf worked himself up into a state, "our burglar didn't actually die during the Battle of the Five Armies." Dwalin finished, his smirk growing even wide. If Thorin didn't know his head of guards better, he would almost say that the large dwarf was enjoying himself a little too much.

The silence in his study was heavy and thick as the dwarves chewed over this, also unexpected revelation.

"I beg your pardon?" Dori spoke slowly and carefully. Even as shocked as he was, Dori still managed to be polite as they came.

"Bilbo survived the Battle of Five Armies." Balin answered him just as slowly and with just as much care, his eyes darting towards where Kili, Bofur, Bifur and Ori all still stood remaining as silent as marble.

"How?" Dori exclaimed, pressing a hand over his heart. "She was such a tiny thing and Gandalf said she ran right into the middle of it. We found her coat!"

"Yes, we did, but we never did find her body…"

"Doesn't mean she ain't still dead." Gloin rumbled.

"She isn't," Bofur said calmly before he looked at Thorin, his dark eyes questioning, "What's going on? Why is Frodo here? Bilbo isn't here, obviously, so why is Frodo? Where is Bilbo?"

"That's a lot of questions for one whose been keeping a lot of secrets" Dwalin said, his arms crossed as he stared down at the miner slash toymaker.

Bofur met his gaze calmly before looking towards Thorin before asking;

"What do you want to know?"

"Where to start?" Thorin replied rather sarcastically, "How bout with when and how you found out that our burglar was alive and go from there."

Thorin watched as most of his company turned to stare at Bofur in shock, but all kept their mouths firmly shut so as to allow the miner to speak without hindrance.

Bofur sighed heavily before shrugging his shoulders, flashing them all his usual and charismatic grin. Once Thorin might have believed the miner's grin was a sign of general happy and go-lucky attitude to everything in life, never would he have believed it was also a mask to hide the dwarf's true and darker feelings. It was only after the Battle of the Five Armies did Thorin realise just how much pain was hidden behind that wide, annoyingly bright and optimistic grin.

"It was a passing fancy of mine during our first ever trading expedition to Ered Luin. I meant to go alone, but," Bofur started with another shrug as he looked at Kili, Ori and Bifur, who all nodded, confirming the beginning of his tale.

"So your story," Dwalin said pointing to Kili who glared back at him, "about wanting to find the trolls was completely bollocks then."

"No!" Kili snapped back, "We did go looking for the trolls… we just didn't find them during _that_ particular trip." The young prince received many deadpan expressions sent in his way.

"Bofur." Thorin said and the miner nodded.

"We weren't exactly expecting to find her. Alive and well, I mean. We just hoped and…"

"And you never said we could never go back to the Shire! Only that she could never come back here!" Kili buttered in hot temperedly, glaring daggers at his uncle.

Bofur smacked the young prince over the head to shut him up.

"And we did, obviously."

"Not that she was very happy that we did." Ori muttered causing his brother to look at him in horror.

"ORI!" Dori exclaimed, once more pressing his hand over his heart, "you knew about this?!"

The youngest Ri brother blushed but nodded, meeting his older brothers' eyes with a defiance within his usually passive and gentle gaze.

"Yes I did. And I don't regret it. Bilbo is my friend and I missed her. And she asked us…"

"Ori," Bofur said gently and the young red haired dwarf fell respectively silent.

"Ori's right," Bofur continued, "she wasn't overly happy to see us." he scrunched up his face a little as he remembered their discovery of finding their burglar alive and well, "almost broke my foot with her door."

"And smacked us over the head with that wicked umbrella of hers." Kili added with a cheeky grin before raising a hand to his head as if it had suddenly started to throb from the memory of the wack it had received from Bilbo's large umbrella.

"And yelled at us that it was impolite to barge into someone's house uninvited and asked us if our mothers hadn't taught us better manners." Ori giggled.

"She calmed down after a bit." Bofur continued with a small grin which faulted for moment as he wrinkled his nose, "Well, until Frodo appeared. We woke him, you see. Bilbo had already put him to bed when we arrived, but we obviously woke him again."

"Got nervous about you seeing the lad, did the lass?" Dwalin offered and Bofur nodded.

"When you finally see him, you'll know why." Bofur shot Thorin a rather unfriendly look.

"Because he looks like me?" Thorin replied and Bofur went a tad red in the face before nodding.

"Ah…" said several of his dwarves whose minds had finally made the important connection as to why the lad was so significant besides from being the child of their burglar.

"She doesn't deny it," Bofur started slowly, "and she wasn't trying to keep him a secret from us to be spiteful or…" he glanced at Ori who offered the word vindictive, "aye, that."

"So what was she trying to do then? Keeping something as important as this all to herself?" Gloin rumbled furiously.

"Trying to raise her child in peace and quiet. Keep him safe." Kili spoke in an innocent manner, all the while giving his uncle a cold stare.

"She had me draw up a contract." Ori offered to no one in particular but obviously to dispel some of the tension that was seething around the study.

"Did she now?" Thorin asked dryly, turning his attention away from his nephew and onto the young scribe who blushed violently, "and what does it say?"

_Of course_, he thought with a tiny hint of pride, having a contract drawn up was very much something his burglar would do. She had always been practical like that. Optimistic, but always planning for the worse, should it ever happen.

"Well," Ori dug around in his satchel for a moment before drawing from it a carefully folded by worn out piece of parchment. He opened it carefully; he's eyes quickly moving over it, "mainly it says that she'll send Frodo here, to meet with you when he comes of age. Which is thirty-three by Hobbit standards."

That caused a slight pause that echoed around Thorin's stone study.

"Really?" Gloin rumbled. He looked somewhat startled by this news, though only for a moment as he started to remember several conversations he had had with the company's burglar, one involving the age of adulthood of hobbit. He couldn't remember quite what that conversation had been about or how it had even started, though he suspected it had probably been about his son. Almost all his conversations with the company burglar had been about his son, his pride and joy in life. She never seemed to grow tired of hearing him talk about his lad. She had been sweet like that. It almost made him feel guilty about thinking so wrongly of her, even now, after so many years.

Ori nodded, his eyes still glued to the contract.

"She said that was her plan all along. Gandalf agrees with it too, apparently. Even says that if Frodo wants to come here, he'll escort him here himself."

"Us too." Kili added. "We offered to do so too. That's in there somewhere." He pointed vaguely at the contract in Ori's hands.

"What about her?" Balin asked, "What will she do, if the lad does decide to come here, will she come?"

"Ah…"

"That'd be a no." Dwalin stated. His face, momentarily, looked torn between disappointment and annoyance before it disappeared behind his Captain of the Royal Guard face.

"She thinks she's still banished." Ori replied meekly, still staring down at the contract in his hands. "And that things might be a bit… hairy enough without her being thrown into the mix. She wants what's best for Frodo and she - she thinks she'll only make things more difficult for him if she came along."

"So what will she do then? After her child leaves?" Balin asked. The four dwarves, Bifur included, shrugged.

"Either stay in Bag End or go to Rivendell, she hasn't decided yet." Ori answered softly. Thorin fought to keep his face neutral at the mention of the Last Homely House East of the Sea. Even so, he remembered her face when she first laid eyes upon its autumn beauty, and how, when they had left Imladris, the longing in her earth brown eyes as they bid the valley a silent farewell. Of course, she would go there to live out the remainder of her days after she sent their child to him, obviously believing she would never see the lad ever again.

"I don't think she's really thought about it to tell you all truths." Bofur voice drew Thorin back to the present. "Her focus is Frodo; she doesn't really think very much about herself."

Yes, Thorin thought as he rubbed his temple, that sounds very much like her. Taking care of everyone else, making sure they were happy and completely forgetting about herself.

He briefly remembers her panicking far above him as she suddenly realises her miscalculation and that she has quite literally left herself out of the equation of escaping from Thranduil palace. He remembers wanting to yelled at her for her blindness and stupidity, all the while panicking himself, trapped and unable to do a single thing to help her inside of his barrel.

He forces his thoughts once more away from her.

"When was the last time you saw her?" He asks and the dwarves before him looked thoughtful.

"Been awhile," Bofur mused, his eyes sad as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't think Frodo had turned nine yet."

"He'll be ten soon." Ori added with a small pout before turning his attention to Thorin, "Why is he here? We've answered what you want to know, have we not? So answer us this, why is he here?"

They hadn't actually, answered all of Thorin's question. Barely scraped the surface of all his questions in fact, but despite his temper and his desire to know why he has been lied to for all these years, he quickly decides that now wasn't the best time to go into this, that the wellbeing of child was far more important at the moment than his wounded pride and trust.

"You have heard of Bzog, the Defilers Spawn, correct?" Thorin asked and his company nodded, some with vigour while others, such as Bofur and Ori, looked more than a little puzzled as they nodded their heads to his question.

"Well," he took a deep breath to steady his temper as he spoke the words that were tearing his very being apart, "we have just learnt that he is apparently after our burglar."

The horror that filled his companion's face was enough to inform Thorin that despite the loud denials of ever caring a wit about their burglar after the whole incident with the Arckenstone, his men still very much cared for their hobbit and the very thought of her being in the hands of the Defiler's Spawn was enough for them to reach for their weapons and to go charging off in one direction or another to save her.

"WHY?" Bofur was roaring, his eyes frantic and desperate.

"Apparently he has it in his head that she has something to do with the Defiler's death and wants revenge… we think." Dwalin explained, "Did she mention anything about the Defiler to you during one of your visits?"

"Ah… no, not exactly." Bofur replied with a shake of his head, the flaps of his hat flapping madly around his ears, his eyes still frantic and his hands trembling at his sides as he tries to contain his anger and fear for the hobbit that had quite stolen his heart even when another held hers, "she doesn't truly remember much from the battle. Got hit in the head by something when she was crying out about the eagles coming… says she woke in a ditch a few days later."

"Didn't think to come back though." Gloin rumbled. Bofur shot him a look as did Ori, Kili and Bifur.

Bofur opened his mouth as if to say something, but Ori cut him off.

"She had concussion! A serious one at that. She said that she wasn't even thinking of not coming back when she got out of the ditch, it just so happen that the side she crawled out of was facing Laketown. She didn't even realise that she was heading in the wrong direction til she reached Mirkwood and by that time, Gandalf and Beorn had caught up to her." Ori snapped angrily at the much large red beard dwarf.

"Still should have come back after she found out about…" Gloin left the rest of his sentence unsaid, trying to be, for a rare time, delicate about a given situation. Bofur on the other hand, didn't give a wit about being delicate about the extremely delicate situation that they had all found themselves in.

"The lass didn't even know she was with child til she got to Beorn's! She felt utterly horrid during the whole trip back to his home but never even thought that it might be due to a babe growing within. She only discovered the truth when Beorn informed her. Said he could smell it or something." Bofur huffed angrily back at Gloin.

"And when she did learn about the babe, she just wanted to go home. She didn't want to go back around Mirkwood, not when she still thought hersef banished. So she went home, Gandalf escorted her and stayed with her until after Frodo was born." Bofur went pale as he looked back at Thorin, "this-this Defiler's Spawn, he-he doesn't know about Frodo as well does he?"

"We believe not," Balin answered for him, "we've spoken with one of Bovin's men who knows and was willing to give us a clear picture of what is going on, and from what he has told us, Bzog only wanted Bilbo, he knows nothing of her child. He believed that she was in fact male."

"We have to get her back. We have save her!" Kili was saying desperately, his eyes wide and beseeching as he stared at his uncle.

"We already have several parties out looking for Bovin. And with the information one of Bovin's men is willing to give us, they should hopefully intercept Bovin before he reaches the meeting place of Bzog."

"What about Frodo?" Ori asked worriedly, "You say he's lost?"

"In the mountain somewhere. He did a runner shortly after I went to get Thorin." Dwalin said, rolling his eyes, torn between appearing amused and annoyed by the lad's antics.

"We have to find him! Bilbo will have our heads if anything happens to him!" Ori squeaked.

"Do you have any idea as to where he might be hiding?" Dwalin asked.

"Ah," Bofur's face became thoughtful, "maybe in Smaug's bedroom."

"Or your workshop." Ori added, looking at Bofur.

"Or the throne room."

"Or maybe the kitchens."

"Or maybe…"

"So basically he could be anywhere." Thorin said over the top of the three dwarves who blushed and nodded.

"We told him a lot about Erebor, described it to him and such." Kili said softly.

"And Bilbo was fine with that?" Balin questioned, surprised that their burglar was happy enough to allow the four dwarves tell her son stories of the kingdom that she had been banished from by the very dwarf who happened to be the lad's father.

"Yes," Kili nodded with a shrug, "she only got upset with us if we started telling him about orcs or goblins and such."

"And yet she was fine telling him about our encounters with Trolls and Spiders." Bofur snorted in amusement.

"Probably because we looked so incredibly stupid and she gets to tease us over it. And you have to admit," Kili said with a bright grin, "her retelling of the Trolls and Spiders incidents are rather amusing."

"Aye, true that." Bofur replied with a grin.

"Can you think of anywhere in particular the lad might be hiding?" Balin asked bring the two back around to the topic at hand.

"Plenty," Kili replied, "but he has to get to them first, and that's where he'll probably get lost. This is a very big mountain and he's only a little fellow who has never been here before. Even with all the tales we've told him, it unlikely he'll be able to get to any of the places he would want to go before he got caught by someone."

"So again, he could be anywhere?" Thorin rumbled in annoyance. He felt as if they were going in circles and that the lad was no nearer to being found than an hour ago.

"Not necessarily," Balin said, his face thoughtful, "as Kili said the lad wouldn't be able to get far, at least to the places that he would most likely go without being caught, and as he hasn't been caught yet, he is most probably still down in the lower levels of the mountain."

"That still isn't much to go on." Thorin said biting back a growl of frustration.

"But it is all we've got to go on." Balin replied, sending him a sympathetic look.

"It's as good as any place to start." Dwalin said, nodding his head at their fellow companions, who after bowing to Thorin left to his study to join the search for the lost Dwobbit.

"We'll find him Thorin." Dwalin reassured his king.

Thorin only nodded his head silently, praying that his head of guard spoke the truth.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I've found some time to spend on this fic. Not a lot but some which is better than nothing. So now, the rest of the company knows about Bilbo still being alive and that Frodo exists.  
I tried to give everyone in the company a moment in this chapter but ultimately I had to cut out some dwarves because basically, they were all talking over each other and nothing was being said. Actually a lot was being said and some of it was quite amusing but it wasn't relevant to the plot of this chapter. So as sad as I was to see little snippets go, this chapter did become tighter and stuck to it original purpose, which is to tell the rest of the company of Bilbo's situation and the existence of Frodo. Those of the company who didn't really appear or did but didn't say anything (Like Oin. Poor, deaf Oin. You can imagine how much fun I had writing his moments in this chapter, only for them to sadly hit the editing floor because as amusing as they were - to me at least- they took something away from the chapter, the seriousness and drama and I just got too carried away with his deafness that the chapter lost its main point. But don't worry, I have plans for Oin and he'll get his moments to shine later on in this fic) will get some nice Frodo/Bilbo moments later on, I just simply couldn't get them to work in this chapter, like Oin and his deafness.  
Hmmm, when this is all over, I'm going to have to put up a fanfic that has all the deleted/extended/original drafts or 'scenes that simply wouldn't fit in' for this fanfic. I've got quite a few lol.  
Anyway, hope you all enjoyed. Next chapter we'll be back with Frodo and finding out what shenanigans he's been up to while his poor ol'Da suffers heart-attack after heart-attack, lol.


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